


High Spirits

by becka



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fame, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Ghost Hunters, M/M, Team Bonding, Yoga injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 05:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10984686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becka/pseuds/becka
Summary: Harry and Louis have a pretty good following for their paranormal investigation videos on YouTube. So good, in fact, that they've got a contract to turn their videos into a full-fledged series for BBC Three. They hire on some junior investigators, and they have to adjust to a bigger team, not to mention higher production values, TV promo, and rubbing elbows (and sometimes more than elbows) with proper celebrities.





	High Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [linvro](http://linvro.tumblr.com/) for her lovely Big Bang [art](http://linvro.tumblr.com/tagged/becka).
> 
> Thanks to [Lucy]() for being the best and quickest beta in the world, and to [badjujuboo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo) and [goseaward](http://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward) for reading and handholding when it was sorely needed.
> 
> And thanks to [helcinda](http://archiveofourown.org/users/helcinda) for encouraging me to write this in the first place.
> 
> <33

Louis’s fliers don’t mention the TV thing. It still feels pretty unreal, being offered the chance to film a pilot and maybe the chance to be on the telly. And he doesn’t want a load of idiots stumbling in because they think paranormal investigation is a quick path to fame. Louis himself is proof that it’s not. He’s carting an envelope full of photocopies around to every university noticeboard and telephone pole in the city, and it’s now pissing down rain whilst he does it. And Harry may never even know the trouble he’s gone to, setting all this up. It’s supposed to be their thing, the show, but Harry’s fucked off to somewhere in the countryside for a week, and Louis’s left holding the bag.

He tacks up one last damp flier and decides to head home in his squelching trainers. It’s not a good idea to think too hard about what they’ll do if this all works out, but Louis would dearly love to buy some new trainers without fucking over his budget for the month. He hunches under his wind-whipped umbrella at the bus stop and spares a moment to dream. New trainers and a telly made this century and maybe some of those fancy noise-cancelling headphones that cost about a month’s rent. He’s a fair hand at budgeting now, but he’s never had any spare cash to splash out on big expenses; the numbers in their contract are more than he’s ever had in his account at once. And that’s just for one series; if they don’t fuck up, he could quit his job and do this full-time. It’s fucking terrifying to think that far ahead, but he can’t help it sometimes.

*

Harry’s never seen a yurt before, but he’s willing to make a go of it, and his mum is so excited for the whole experience. Everyone must have arrived all at once because the whole car park is swarming with women in palazzo trousers disembarking from Range Rovers. Mum’s little Fiat looks like a toy beside them, but she doesn’t seem to mind, smiling round at all these strangers while Harry juggles their luggage. All he really wants here is for his mum to have the best possible time and maybe make a few new friends; he’s just along to facilitate that, and only because Auntie Laura slipped a disc and couldn’t come. Harry’s hardly even done yoga, and he knows he’ll be rubbish in the classes.

They check in at the registration yurt, a large round structure with a canvas roof and a desk in the centre. Harry stands behind his mum while she apologises that she’s brought him instead of Auntie Laura, and though he’s keeping up a nice friendly smile, his eyes do wander a bit to the people sprawled on the sofas and oversize poufs strewn about in the large open area surrounding the desk. He didn’t think a yoga retreat was a place you could possibly feel underdressed, but he does. It’s as though there’s a uniform no one told him about, and his trackies are absolutely not going to cut it.

He brings his attention back to the desk just in time to hear his mum say, “Oh, I didn’t realise accommodation was separated by gender,” and he wonders where they’ll stash him, since so far he hasn’t seen a single other man. Not that he’d expected there to be many when his mum won the raffle for this retreat, but if he’s actually the only boy, he’s a bit afraid they’ll put him in a broom cupboard or something.

Still the woman at the desk is circling things on a map of the retreat centre, and his mum is nodding along with her directions. Harry hitches his duffel up higher on his shoulder and waits.

“Right,” says his mum, turning back to him. “So you’ll just be one yurt away this week. Is that all right? I’m sorry I didn’t know to tell you before.”

“I’m pretty yurt by the oversight, honestly,” Harry replies.

She rolls her eyes. “You really are my child, aren’t you?”

“That would explain why we’ve got the same nose.”

“Come along, you. We’ve got to get our stuff stashed and start reconnecting with our cores.”

If she were anyone but his mum, he’d make a joke, but he bites his tongue instead and follows her back outside.

There’s a light rain falling now, and it clings to Harry’s hair and the bare skin of his arms. He didn’t think it was cold driving up, but he’s shivering a little by the time he reaches his appointed yurt. Inside is a little sitting area with sofas and an electric kettle, and beyond that gauzy curtains that must mark off the sleeping space. The curtains drift and billow, and Harry has the same eerie feeling he gets on hunts sometimes, that something is with him just out of sight. He thinks he can see a figure moving in the shadows, and his heart rate picks up. Matrixing, maybe, the brain’s attempt to find recognizable patterns in the visible world.

Just then a Miley Cyrus song kicks on full blast on the other side of the curtain, and Harry yelps and drops his bag. He places a tentative hand on the curtain, pulling it aside so he can see a man bent over a giant suitcase.

“Hello,” says Harry, and the man startles, coming upright with a handful of pants and a bug-eyed stare. He’s familiar, but not in a normal way.

“Shit,” he says, dropping the pants and reaching for his blaring phone, which is sitting in a metal bowl beside the bed. “Sorry, I thought it was just me in here.”

Harry smiles. “Well, it was until I got here, I think. The gentlemen’s yurt seems like a pretty unpopular place.”

“I’m Nick,” says the man, holding out his hand to shake, and Harry takes it before he replies.

“I’m Harry. You’re, ah, you’re Grimmy off of Radio 1, right?”

Nick ducks his head a little. “That too, yeah. But this week I’m just a yoga enthusiast like yourself.” He does a weird little bow, and Harry’s sort of charmed.

“I’m actually just here with my mum. My auntie Laura was going to come, but she slipped a disc, and it seemed like a waste for no one to go with her. I’m awful at yoga.”

Nick thumps down on the edge of the bed. “Oh thank god, me too. My friend Nadia’s one of the instructors, but all I ever do in her classes is fall over or fall asleep. We do corpse pose and I’m literally dead to the world.”

“I’ve never gone to a proper class,” Harry admits. “I’ve just done, like, YouTube videos and stuff. I really like all the relaxing breathing and mindfulness stuff, but the actual poses are just…” He gestures helplessly. “I think my mum brought me here just to laugh at me.”

“Yeah, that’s the sort of thing my mum would do too. Have you claimed a bed yet? It’ll probably be us on our own in here, so there’s plenty of room.”

“I might just take the one next to yours, if that’s all right. Unless you snore.”

“I’ve never had any complaints. Least not for that.”

“Sleepwalk?”

“Not to speak of.”

“Is there sleepwalking that’s not worth speaking of?”

“Fair point.” Nick lies down across the bed, watches Harry upside down while he starts assembling his things around the next bed over. “You don’t snore, do you? Or sleepwalk?”

Harry smiles. “Not to speak of.” He unties his trainers and takes them off before lying down on his bed. It’s narrow, but much nicer than a camp bed, molding around his body like it might swallow him up, but in a nice way. “Is it all check-in today or is there, like, stuff?” Harry asks.

“You mean you haven’t downloaded the official retreat app yet?”

“My phone’s low on storage and also I think you’ve made that up.”

“I could have, but I didn’t. It’s dead easy to make apps for things nowadays, and this one’s got the schedule in it and little guided meditation routines and I don’t know what all. I haven’t got it either.”

“So do you know if there’s stuff today?”

“Dinner’s at six and then yoga to aid digestion or summat, and then I think we’re all supposed to bond round a campfire for a bit. I only really worried about the mealtimes.”

Harry looks at the time on his phone. It’s barely three. “Do you really think it’ll only be us in here?”

“Nadia seemed to think I’d have a private cabin, so unless anyone else’s auntie falls ill, I think we’re on our own.”

“It’s a yurt,” corrects Harry.

“Of course it is.” Nick turns himself so he’s right way up on the bed and picks up his phone, so Harry does the same. There are a few companionable minutes of silence until Harry checks his email and sees Louis’s forwarded him all the responses to their ad for crew, and then his stomach knots with nerves again.

“Are you so easy to talk to because you interview people for a living?” Harry asks.

“Mostly I interview people for a living because I’m easy to talk to. But I like to think my devastating good looks play a role too.”

“But do you have to, like, practice what you’re going to say before you’re on live? Do you still worry about sounding stupid?”

“Not as much as I used to. Sometimes it’s better if I sound stupid.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it’s better if you sound stupid. But I guess sometimes people like stuff that’s stupid.”

“What do you do with your time when you’re not doing yoga, Harry? It sounds as though you’ve maybe got some experience you’re speaking from.”

“Not, I mean, I’m not on the radio or anything. But my best mate Louis and I, we started making these YouTube videos a couple of years ago, and they got sort of big.”

“Video games or makeup?” Nick asks.

“What?”

“Video games or makeup? I don’t know much about YouTube, but it seems like all video games and makeup. I imagine you’d be quite good at makeup.”

“I prefer a natural look,” says Harry, wondering if there’ll be TV makeup when they start filming a proper show. Yvette Fielding brings her own makeup artist on hunts with her after all. “I’m actually, um, a paranormal investigator.”

Nick looks puzzled. “Like ghosts?”

“Yeah. We go to places that might be haunted and try to talk with any spirits that might be there, or prove it’s all made up and it’s just drafts and mice.”

“You believe in ghosts then?”

Harry hesitates. “Yeah. I do. I didn’t used to. I know how it sounds. But I’ve seen things I can’t explain, and so has Louis.”

“Isn’t that scary though? If you believe there might be… things whilst you’re mucking about in old creaky houses?”

“It’s just energy though. It’s like yoga, really, where you’re trying to get all your whatcha-thingy lined up. Only with spirits it’s really, really not lined up. So there’s this presence that’s just going round with nothing to belong to. It’s sad.”

“Do you get rid of the ghosts, or do you just, like, find them and then leave them be?”

“We can’t get rid of them, but we can make people less afraid of them, and less afraid of being hurt. A house where there’s a lot of unhappiness can give spirits something to feed off of, and then it’s more likely that people will say there are, like, things pulling their hair and scratching them and all that. But if they’re happier, then there’s not so much bad stuff floating about.”

Nick looks sceptical, but most anyone does, at this point in knowing Harry. “So you have to never have a bad day, because it’ll just make the ghost’s day worse. This is tougher than pets.”

“It’s not quite like that, but it helps if you’re happy in your home. Obviously that helps you too, as a living person. We’re not therapists or anything. We can’t make you be happy. But we can recommend it.”

“And that’s hard to argue with, isn’t it? Have you got a lot of followers on YouTube?”

“Fair few,” Harry says. “We’ve been doing it for a bit, so people tend to watch us and then write in asking us to check on stuff in their houses. We’re, er, supposed to be doing a show for BBC3 in the fall.”

“That’s brilliant though. Why wouldn’t you lead with that?”

“It’s not actually happened yet. We’ve signed the contract, but it isn’t quite real. It feels too big.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“I started at the BBC when I was about your age. It’s not a bad gig.”

Harry nods. “I know. Louis’s back home interviewing new crew for the videos, and I should really be there, and instead…” He looks around at the yurt. “I don’t really know what I would do. I’ve never hired anyone before.”

*

Louis sets up interviews at the library. They talked about hiring actual office space, but the BBC hasn’t actually paid them anything yet, and Louis hates to let Harry dip into his savings when Louis hasn’t got any of his own to chip in. 

He sets himself up at a table by the encyclopaedias while Fizzie’s on shift at the desk, and he’s got her word that the librarian won’t kick him out or shush him for the next two hours. He’s wearing a nice jumper and he’s combed his hair, even though it probably doesn’t matter when you’re asking people to muck about in haunted houses with you on a TV show that doesn’t exist yet.

The first person on Louis’s prospective list is a bloke called Liam, who turns up five minutes early looking so earnest that Louis wonders if he’s in the wrong place.

“Liam Payne?”

The bloke nods. “You’re Louis, right?”

“That I am.”

He’s got a nice firm handshake, which Louis thinks should probably be a good sign. When he sits down across the table, he gives a nervous little smile. “I’ve seen a few of your videos, but I didn’t expect you’d need any help.”

“We’re expanding the franchise,” Louis replies cryptically. He and Harry agreed not to tell anyone about the BBC deal while they were auditioning crew, in case that swayed them somehow, but he hadn’t quite decided what to say instead. He has to hope Liam doesn’t have many more questions. “So what interests you about paranormal investigation?”

“Well, I like helping people, and it seems like that’s what you do, making people feel safer in their homes. That’s really admirable. And you do it in a way that isn’t like everyone else. I think I could help with debunking some as well.”

“And why’s that?”

“I’m a plumber. We deal with all sorts of home problems in my line of work, and things like sewer gas backing up in your pipes probably gets mistaken for ghosts all the time.”

“So you know a lot about gas, do you?” says Louis, and Liam cracks a proper smile. “What else do you think you could bring to our team?”

“I’m very punctual, and organised. I’ve got a bit of flex in my schedule because I can take on jobs at different times of day. And obviously there’s the gas thing.”

He’s clearly saying that to make Louis smile, but Louis likes that in a person. “Have you ever had any paranormal experiences of your own, Liam?”

Liam hesitates at that, and Louis recognises it from two years of talking to people about their haunted houses. “It’s not really much, but after my nan died when I was fifteen, I swore I heard her singing round the house for weeks after. And she hadn’t sung in years by then with the dementia and all, but when I told my mum it turned out she’d heard it as well. And the pipes were all right, so that doesn’t explain it. It was nice, honestly.”

Louis feels unexpectedly fond. “Were you close with your nan?”

“When I was little I was, but she was ill for a long time, so it was like, towards the end it was hard. You forget how it used to be a bit, when you see her in such a bad way, and you get used to that. Anyway, it was a long time ago. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of a ghost since.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“Have you got any filming experience at all?”

“I used to sing a bit and film myself, but not much, really. I could learn though. I’d like to learn.” He’s back to earnest again, trying just a bit too hard. Louis makes a note in his little book and nods.

“Alright, well, that’s all the questions I’ve got for now, but I’ll be in touch. Thanks very much for coming.” He stands up to shake Liam’s hand and Liam gives him an uncertain smile.

“I really will learn with all the filming stuff,” says Liam. “I meant that.”

“I know you did. Just chill out a little bit, mate. You don’t have to try so hard.”

“Okay. Well. See you round.”

Louis waves him off. If Harry were here they could chat until the next person showed up, evaluate the candidates like a proper interview. But instead it’s just him on his own fucking around on his phone and counting down the minutes. He’s starting to think he needn’t have set up 20-minute slots when his questions are so basic, but then his next candidate, a bloke called Dan, is so late he runs over anyway, and by the time Louis’s explained, “No, mate, just because it’s called ‘High Spirits’ that doesn’t mean we smoke up before we film,” it’s pretty obvious Dan’s interest isn’t really in the job. Louis can see the next person doing laps in the reference section as he’s trying to passive-aggressively make it clear to Dan he should move along.

“Jade?” he says, as Dan’s finally wandering off. The girl by the reference section makes her way over.

“I didn’t want to stand around like too much of a creep,” she tells him with a smile, thunking down her bag beside the chair. “But I’m not actually that interested in encyclopaedias.”

“There’s no encyclopaedia-related job requirement here, so that’s alright. Thanks for coming round. What’s got you interested in the job?”

“If I’m honest, it’s boredom, really. I’ve got an alright job, but I don’t know many people around here, and when I saw the ad, I thought, oh, that sounds like a laugh.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I work in the office at a primary school. Filing and looking disappointed when parents make terrible excuses why their kids are late.”

“I always made me own excuses. It’s important for kids to learn that sort of creativity, I feel.”

“They’re almost always better than the parents’ anyway.” She puts on a high voice. “‘There was a elephant and it sat on the car and squashed it flat.’ I’d prefer that to rubbish about traffic.”

“So besides liking a good story, what can you bring to our team?”

“I like to think I’ve got quite a good head on my shoulders, and I’m good with notes and records and that. I can do research as well as helping you out in the field.”

“Brilliant.” Louis writes that down. Harry’s no good at dusty archives with his hayfever, and Louis doesn’t have the concentration for microfilm readers. They’ve never done more research than a quick google and a bit of common sense could get them. But presumably the BBC’s got higher standards. “How about experience with the paranormal? Have you got anything in that line?”

Jade nods her head back and forth. “Maybe so? We used to have guides in the back room of this old church, and it gave all of us the creeps, like something was watching and almost breathing down your neck. And my mate Perrie, she swore she saw something down there as well, some kind of dark figure. We all believed it.”

“Anything else?”

“No, but I’d be glad to see more. I might scream my bloomin’ head off, but I’d like it.”

“That’s alright for us. Have you seen our videos?”

“Oh yeah, soon as I saw your ad, I looked you up. You’re a right laugh, you two.”

“Thanks.” He puts a star next to Jade’s name on his pad and stands up to shake her hand. Her nails are bright pink and she’s got a nice firm grip. “We’ll be in touch soon.”

The next candidate is a couple, a boy and a girl who can’t possibly be eighteen and talk over each other so quickly Louis’s head is spinning. They have no work experience, and Louis doesn’t feel at all bad for telling them they’re not the right fit. He’s resting his eardrums with his face in his hands when the person after them comes by.

“Are you Louis?” he says, and Louis looks up with what he hopes is a professional smile on his face. “I’m Niall. If I’m early, I can go get a coffee and entertain myself a bit.” His smile is so easy, like they’re already friends. Louis thinks Niall may well be a person he’d like enough to be friends with.

“You’re alright, mate. Have a seat. Thanks for coming down. What’s your interest in paranormal investigations then?”

“I watched some of your videos and it seemed like a laugh, and also a nice thing to do for all those people. Public service and also scaring the shit out of each other in a dark house. What could be better than that?”

“We always have a good time. Have you got any relevant skills we could use?”

“I’m a sound engineer. I do a lot of concert recordings for schools and stuff, so I’m used to working out the acoustics of different spaces and all. Seems like that might be useful to you. And all that EVP stuff is incredible, I’d love to learn more about that.”

“So would we, mate.” Louis’s thinking it through. Niall’s the first person to turn up with actual practical experience of the sort they need. “We’re thinking we’ll get in some new equipment soon, and if you’ve got thoughts about audio recording software, that would be incredible.”

Niall grins. “You make it sound as though I’ve already got the job.”

“Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Why don’t you tell me a bit about your work? Is the recording thing a full time gig?”

“Some weeks it is, but most of the time it’s a lot of nights and weekends and not much in between.”

“You know we film at night most often, right?”

“Course, but if you want good analysis, it had better not be at two in the morning. You’ve got to review the tape in light of day, don’t you? And I’ll be able to schedule around night-time gigs if I know in advance.”

“Advance notice,” Louis says, making a note on his pad. “Got it. This is all promising. Thanks for your time, mate.” Louis stands and holds out his hand.

“That’s it?” asks Niall, taking it and squeezing for a long moment.

“Did you want more?”

“Dunno. I expected a bit more of an interrogation. You must have people beating down the door for a job like this. I wasn’t even expecting to get your call.”

Louis is almost ashamed that he wasn’t more selective. But he’d only advertised locally, instead of putting it out on their channel, and the turnaround had been quick. Neither he nor Harry wanted to spend months vetting people. “You seemed like a good candidate,” he says, and Niall smiles.

“I hope we’ll speak again soon.”

Louis’s got another hour’s worth of interview slots, but he’s already pretty sure of his picks, and by the time his last candidate texts to say he’s running late, Louis’s confident enough to tell him he shouldn’t bother to come. He doesn’t expect to run into Niall on the pavement outside the library’s front doors while he’s planning his acceptance calls.

“Fancy seeing you again,” Louis says, and Niall gives a sheepish smile.

“I went up the road to get a sandwich and missed my bus. Next one’s not for ten minutes.”

“Do you live far? I’ve got my car round the back. And I think it’s safe to say we’re gonna be co-workers.”

“Shit. Really? That’s incredible. I’d no idea you’d be picking so fast.”

“Like I said, you were a good candidate. Least I can do is give you a ride home. Or buy you a pint?”

“I should buy you a pint. You’re giving me a job.”

“You buy a round, I buy a round, we call it square.”

“Sounds like my kind of night.” Niall follows him out to his car.

It’s easy to talk to Niall, is the thing, and it’s a couple of hours before Louis remembers he was meant to call Harry and say how the interviews went.

When his phone rings, Niall waves him off to take it in a corner.

“I meant to call,” he tells Harry. “I just forgot.”

“That either means it went really well or really badly. Where are you?”

“In the pub. It went well. I think I’ve got some good suggestions. We’ll talk when you’re back.”

“Listen, Lou, I feel bad I’m not there.”

“It’s fine, Haz. How’s yoga? Can you get your knees behind your ears yet?”

“Haven’t tried. But I’ll let you know.”

“Cheers.” Louis looks at Niall, who’s having an animated conversation with an older man at the bar, his eyebrows jumping as he leans in. “Talk to you later. Don’t break anything important.”

“Thanks. Bye!”

Louis hangs up and goes back to the bar, where Niall introduces him to Dave the builder, who’s working on a house up the road.

“Tell him the best part, Dave.”

“Well, I don’t know about best, but there’s something real spooky about this place. I’m not a superstitious man, mind, but all of us have been hearing moaning and groaning up in the attic, and you always feel like you’re being watched. Jeremy swears something tried to shove him down the stairs.”

“And that, Dave, is where you’re in luck,” says Niall. “Louis here is a professional ghost hunter.”

“Oh, is that what you are? I admit I was getting a little worried. Not a whole lot of folk get so excited when you tell them someone nearly got pushed down the stairs.”

“Is it an older house?” Louis asks. “Renovations can stir things up in a place.”

“Maybe a hundred years old. Maybe more. Looks Victorian, but they don’t pay us to take in the history. We’re just shoring up the floors so nobody falls through them and getting the insulation up to code. I’d have to ask the owners, but I expect you could come have a look around, see if there’s any ghosties that need scaring off.”

“That’d be great, if you could put us in touch. We’re just looking for a new project at the minute.”

“You can’t bring along that Yvette Fielding bird, can you? The lads and I might want to hang around and see if you did that.”

“We’re not quite that high profile,” Louis says, thinking “yet” with a little curl of dread and excitement in his stomach. “But we could have a look round and tell you what we see.” Harry had business cards made up for them last fall, and Louis manages to dig one out of his wallet, foxed at the corners but legible. “We’re hiring some new crew on,” he nods at Niall, “so we’re ready for something to train them up on. It’d be better to have a house than something massive like an abandoned church or something.”

Dave makes a show of putting the card in his pocket. “We’ll be in touch. Nice meeting you, lads.”

When he’s shuffled off, Niall gives Louis a hopeful smile and Louis slaps him on the back. “Not on the job six hours yet, and you’ve already got us a case. Good lad.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“No one’s ever called me boss before. I could get used to that.”

Niall laughs. “Next round’s on you then. Boss.”

*

Nick twists his ankle in almost the first class of the weeklong retreat, hot yoga at 7am, and Harry is baffled and impressed enough that he offers to help Nick hop to the medical yurt to check it isn’t sprained. It’s cool outside, and sweat sticks coldly to the back of his neck and his bare arms.

“I’m such an idiot,” moans Nick, as Harry helps him limp along the path. “Nadia’s going to actually kill me for distracting her class.”

“Oh, was that your friend? She’s very… bendy.”

Nick gives him a curious look. “She teaches yoga, Harold. That’s a requirement. Unless you just mean ‘fit’ and you don’t want me to think you’re shallow.”

“Well, there’s that too.” Harry pushes at a strand of hair that’s fallen into his face, feeling caught out. She is fit though. That’s hardly in question.

They reach the medical yurt, and Nick cringes up the two steps to the flap. “You don’t have to come along with me. They’ll just strap me up and give me some paracetamol, and if it’s bad enough, I might go home.”

Harry tries to keep from scowling. Last night he and Nick stayed up past the suggested bedtime in the app Nick grudgingly downloaded, talking about music and life at the BBC, and Harry’s been looking forward to doing it again. “I hope you don’t have to go home,” he says. “And I’m happy to stay. There’ll be plenty more yoga later.”

The nurse on staff recommends Nick rest up until lunch, and Harry skips out on a seminar about reflexology that he was actually quite interested in to hover by his bedside.

“You really don’t have to do this. Just because I bollocksed up my foot within 24 hours of arrival doesn’t mean you should miss out.”

Harry shrugs. “I didn’t even pay to be here. I don’t mind.”

Nick smiles. “Are you trying to make a good impression because you want to plug your ghost show on the radio or are you this nice all the time?”

“I’m usually cranky if I haven’t eaten,” Harry admits. “Other than that I’m always this nice.”

“That’s one of those things I’ve always wondered about them ghost shows. When you hear moaning and everything, how do you know it isn’t just someone’s had a dodgy curry and got a bit of wind?”

“Louis never farts without telling someone he’s done it,” Harry answers matter-of-factly.

“Charming,” says Nick.

Harry thinks about the interviews, about Louis sorting out their professional lives back home. “He’s great. I think if you just met us today, you’d never think we’d be mates, but we grew up together. So we’re used to each other now. We balance each other’s strengths and weaknesses, you know, like I’m rubbish at Fifa, but he listens to Nickelback.”

Nick looks aghast. “Unironically?”

“Far as I can tell. I don’t know. I mostly leave him to it.”

“I don’t think I could ever look him in the face, knowing that.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s all right. He’s got a good face, so he gets by.”

“Are the two of you…” Nick twirls his hand vaguely.

“Nah. Louis’s straight as an arrow. He had this girlfriend, they were together for ages, but they split up last year.”

“And you?”

“I haven’t got a girlfriend.” Harry smiles. “And I’m not very straight at all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Harry is startled to realise Nick may actually be flirting with him, but he likes it. He likes it a lot. He scoots his chair closer to Nick’s camp bed. “I’m so not straight I’m practically a spiral.”

“I don’t know what you kids are into these days, but I’ve never heard of that.”

“You’re not that much older than I am.”

Nick gives him a considering look, then yawns into the back of his hand. “I think I need a nap, love. You shouldn’t hang around to watch me sleep. That’s not a good look on anyone. And if you go now, you may catch the tail end of that reflexology thingy.”

“Okay.” Harry takes the hint, and the fact is he learns some very interesting things about the soles of his feet, but he keeps thinking of Nick too.

At lunch he sits next to his mum, who spent the morning learning to make quinoa snack bars and isn’t really hungry, and he keeps looking at the door expecting Nick, which means there isn’t much conversation. Harry keeps thinking about Nick saying he might go home, and then Harry would be in the yurt all on his own all week, and there’d be nothing to distract from the fact that he’s not much good at yoga. So when Nick comes limping in, looking pained but not on crutches or anything, Harry jumps up to greet him.

“I can get you something if you like,” Harry says. “Or whatever would be helpful.”

“Anything short of laughing at me would be great right now.”

“Who laughed?”

“Nadia. You’re my only friend now, Harry.”

Harry accepts that responsibility with the solemnity it deserves.

*

Louis already knows who his junior investigators will be by the time the interviews end, but he waits until Monday to call them all and say for sure. He thinks that’s probably what professionals do, and people who don’t take all decisions on instinct.

Liam’s apparently on a job when he calls, something clanking loudly behind him as he speaks. “That’s not a haunting I hear, is it?” Louis says when they’ve got through all the congratulations and ‘so happy to be working for you’ and things.

“Just a bad boiler,” Liam replies. “Old houses can have so much boring stuff wrong with them. I’ll call you in if it turns out it’s possessed though. This is the third time this month we’ve been out here.”

Suddenly the clanking gets louder and rumblier and Liam says, “Shit, gotta go. Thanks, mate!” and ends the call.

Louis calls Jade next, and she happens to be on her lunch break at school, so she’s got time to chat. “Thank you,” she says. “That’s brilliant. I’ve been waiting to say anything to my friends or anything, but I really wanted this.”

“It’s gonna be fun,” says Louis. “We’re gonna be a great team. I think we’ve actually got our next hunt to start on now, if you’d like to jump right into research.”

“I’d love to.”

He tells her a bit about the house Niall found, as much as he knows, and she makes interested noises down the phone as she notes the details. Finally Louis says, “I’ve got one more call to make, but we’re going to get everyone together once Harry’s back, so we’ll speak then, yeah?”

“Yeah, great. Cheers.”

He calls Niall last because he expects a longer conversation, is looking forward to it, but Niall’s phone goes straight to voicemail and it throws him off. He doesn’t want to tell someone they’ve got a job on voicemail. That’s not what you do, is it? So he leaves a brief, slightly angry-sounding message asking Niall to call back, and then he distracts himself on the internet for the rest of the afternoon. By the time Niall phones back, it’s after six, and Louis’s moved on to searching his freezer for something resembling a quick dinner.

“Hey,” says Niall immediately. “Sorry about earlier. Phone goes off for recording and I forgot to turn it back on again. Is everything alright?”

The way he says it is like a pal checking in, not like someone you’ve only met once, and Louis feels guilty for the gruffness of his message earlier. “No, mate, it’s good news actually. I wanted to formally offer you the position of junior ghost hunter.”

“I think maybe you’d hinted at that before, but that’s brilliant! When do we start?”

“Already started, haven’t we? You’ve found us our next location and everything.”

“Just trying to do my bit for the operation.”

“So once Harry’s back, we’ll all meet up and go over everything. And then we can see how you lot do in the field.” He wants to tell Niall about the BBC contract, in a way he hadn’t been tempted to with Liam or Jade. But he holds his tongue. Like a professional.

*

It’s Wednesday night when Harry says the thing he hopes they’ve both been thinking. Yoga for digestion has left him feeling relaxed and calm, and there’s no evening speaker tonight, so it’s just him and Nick sat on Nick’s bed in the yurt, the LED candles on the table giving everything a warm glow. They’ve been laughing, but there’s a pause where Nick’s still smiling and Harry says, “I want to kiss you.”

And Nick looks surprised in the moment before he leans in to catch Harry’s mouth with his. They fit so nicely, and Nick lays him back on the bed to keep kissing him. It’s exactly what Harry hoped he would do. One of Nick’s legs slides between his, and it fits them even closer together, even though the camp bed shudders a little beneath their weight. Nick strokes Harry’s hair back from his face and then tangles his fingers in it, not quite pulling but applying a little pressure to Harry’s scalp. And that’s even better, Harry gasping into Nick’s open mouth.

“Should have known you’d like that,” Nick whispers, and Harry’s teeth graze his lower lip as he kisses him again. He doesn’t have a plan beyond this, beyond how nice it feels to have Nick’s mouth on his finally. So they keep it up for a while, just kissing, until Harry feels breathless and hot all over, arching into the weight of Nick’s body above him.

“I didn’t think this would work,” Harry tells him, as Nick pulls back to throw off his jumper. “I thought you’d turn me down cold.”

“Then you didn’t see me staring at your arse for half an hour in after-dinner yoga.”

“Bit difficult to see when someone’s staring at my arse though, isn’t it?”

“It’s really at its best when the rest of you is all twisted around upside down, or in warrior pose doing those lunges. After-dinner yoga isn’t even its finest moment.”

“I don’t think you’ve seen its finest moment yet,” Harry says coyly.

Nick grins and kisses him again. It’s shaping up to be a brilliant rest of the week.

*

Louis’s flat is crammed with equipment and odd mismatched furniture, everything cobbled together from relatives’ cast-offs. But it’s his, and it’s a massive improvement over crowding into his mum’s house with all his half-siblings borrowing things all the time. Still, he always feels a bit self-conscious about it when Harry comes round to discuss work. Harry lives in the flat above his mum’s pub where he bartends, and Louis’s still not sure why he always comes round here instead, why Louis’s lounge is full of shelving with cameras and EMF detectors and broken bits and bobs of recording equipment. He’s thinking about this when Harry returns from his week of yoga, practically glowing with health and happiness and middle-class charm, and it’s possible he’s in a bad mood already when he opens the door.

“Fucking finally,” he says, waving Harry in.

“I said I’d be back at three, and it’s five till. Did I get the time wrong?”

Louis breathes out hard through his nose. “No. You said three. But you also said we’d hold auditions and then you buggered off to do yoga for a week.”

Harry gives him a wounded look, which doesn’t help at all. “It was for my mum. She didn’t want to go alone. And I _asked_ you was it all right, and you said yes.”

“Right. Right. Okay.” Louis can’t make himself apologise, even though Harry’s being reasonable and he’s being a twat. “It’s just hard doing this by myself.”

“I know. But I’m back now, and we’ll sort it all out, and you can even yell at me more if you like.”

“Good.”

Harry hugs him, and he hugs back. No one defangs him like Harry does.

“How was yoga? Learn any new positions?”

Harry gives a flustered smile, starts to say something, then shakes his head. “I fell over a lot. But they were nice about it. And I learned some stuff I thought we could use. With, like, crystals and spiritual resonances and all. It was pretty cool.”

“Crystals?”

“Don’t take the piss. We hunt ghosts. We’re already doing something mad.”

“But _crystals_. Shall we chant ohm in haunted houses as well, see if we can get the spirits to join in doing harmonies?”

“You don’t do harmonies in chanting like that.”

Louis folds his arms and lifts his eyebrows. “Maybe spirits would. Who’s ever tried it before?”

“Can I at least tell you about the crystal thing before you shoot it down? We use all sorts of stuff to focus energy. If we can bring along Lottie’s old Pooh bear trying to get responses, this isn’t any different, is it?”

Louis nods him towards the sofa. “All right, sit down and we’ll talk about crystals. While we’re at it, we might also want to talk about this massive bloody lot of BBC paperwork I got in the post.”

“Yeah. Have you told anyone yet?”

“Just my parents. I didn’t want to brag about it until it was all sorted. Maybe that’s superstitious. Have you told anyone?”

Harry hesitates. “A guy I met at the yoga thing. We were sharing a yurt.”

“Of course you were.”

“No one besides that though. And my parents, obviously. It’s still weird.”

“Completely fucking weird,” Louis agrees.

*

Louis calls a staff meeting at the Nando’s in the town centre. They’ve got some forms to hand out, and Harry spends a long time pacing in front of his closet, trying to figure out what to wear. Louis’s been over all the notes from his interviews and shown Harry pictures of the three people he’s chosen, but Harry still wants to make a good impression. Louis always says he’s the most likeable person on earth, but it’s not as if there isn’t some effort involved.

He gets there at ten till seven in a new jumper and a pair of boots without holes in. He’s prepared to text Nick until Louis shows up, the sort of nonsense banter they’ve been cultivating since he got home, but one of Louis’s new crew has actually beaten him in.

“You’re Harry, aren’t you?” says a bloke with an Irish accent, peeling himself off the wall outside Nando’s. He’s got a flat cap on and a tentative smile like Harry’s his blind date.

“Niall?” says Harry, and Niall’s smile opens up blindingly.

“That’s me. Good to meet you. I didn’t know if you lads were the sort to turn up early, but I figured, this is a job, right?”

“Louis hasn’t sent a sweary text saying he’ll be late, so I think you’re fine. It’s good to meet you. You do sound stuff, right?”

“Yeah, mostly that at the minute. I told Louis I’d be glad to get a look at some of the software you’re using.”

“Brilliant. We could use the help. When we started it was just, like, us with an infrared camera wandering around in the dark, so we’ve just built things up as we went.”

“It seems like it’s working out, isn’t it? You’ve got plenty of subscribers into what you’re doing, and you make it look good.”

“Thanks, mate. It’s been all right. We just need to expand and get a bit more professional now. More organised.”

“Louis didn’t say if there was a reason for all that. Did you get some feedback or something? I was surprised you didn’t even announce you were hiring on your channel.”

“We didn’t want people showing up from all over, or flying in or anything. We can’t support someone’s relocation costs or be a full-time job for them right now, so we didn’t want it to sound like we could. And it seems like we found some pretty great folks locally.”

“How many of us are there?”

“Three. You, then a researcher called Jade, and a plumber called Liam.”

“Researcher’s a bit strong,” says a voice over Harry’s shoulder, and he turns to see the girl from Louis’s pictures. She’s wearing a fuzzy cardigan and looks every bit like a sexy librarian. “I work in the office at a primary school. I’m just nosy and I like to look things up. Jade Thirlwall.”

Harry and Niall introduce themselves. “So you were off on some sort of retreat thing last week, Louis said? Was it, like, professional development?” Jade asks.

“I’d like to see the sort of professional development they’ve got for ghost hunting,” adds Niall.

“No, it wasn’t anything like that. It was just, like, my mum won a raffle, for this yoga retreat thing, only she was supposed to go with my auntie Laura, and then auntie Laura slipped a disc and Mum didn’t want to go alone, so there I was.”

“Ooh, how was it? I do a bit of yoga sometimes, but I’ve never been to anything like that.”

Harry tries not to feel as though he’s been shirking and needs to justify himself. “It was nice. I haven’t got good balance, but no serious harm done.”

“I fell straight into someone once doing a headstand in yoga class. I was mortified, couldn’t show me face there for weeks, ran straight out of the one-month free trial. Now I just do it along with YouTube videos.”

“Yeah! Me too. Sometimes.” Harry looks at Niall, who’s smiling out of polite interest. “Anyway, I’m not like a yoga fanatic or anything. I just wanted to keep my mum company. But now I’m back, ready to get to work with you lot.”

He can see Louis rounding the corner, striding up the street with a guy who’s probably Liam. He waves, and Jade and Niall turn to look. Liam’s tall and broad-shouldered compared to Louis, but it’s hard to tell how that’ll translate up close. Harry sees Niall’s eyes linger in a quick up and down and he has some suspicions forming he won’t mention. But that’s all right, then there’s two of them, and the BBC’s supposed to like diversity, isn’t it?

“Look, Haz, I’m not even the last here!” calls Louis, and Liam looks vaguely affronted.

“Well done,” Harry tells him.

“This is Liam,” says Louis unnecessarily. “Liam, this is Jade, Niall, and my dearest mate, Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” Liam says, shaking hands all round, very firm and professional.

“Right. That’s sorted. Let’s go in and get something to eat.”

Harry orders a halloumi and portobello wrap and takes a seat next to Niall. He’s thinking about employment contracts and explaining to their new employees that they thought they were signing up for a YouTube channel, but actually they were signing up for a potential career with the BBC. Having spent a week with Nick, Harry feels even more like any little opportunity could be the start of a career in the world of TV hosting and cross-promotion.

Louis makes the announcement, maybe predictably, when everyone’s got their mouths full. “So we’re going to be going on a hunt that young Niall put into our hands in the next couple of weeks, and I’m sure you’re all looking forward to that. But I’ve got to tell you that next hunt is going to be our last episode as a YouTube phenomenon.” Harry nearly chokes on some lettuce, even though he knows what’s coming. “After that, I’m pleased to tell you, we’ll be filming an episode of our brand new BBC3 show.”

“We’ll what?” says Liam, looking stunned.

“Holy shit,” says Niall.

“You’re joking,” says Jade, smothering a hand over her mouth.

“For once, I am one hundred percent serious. We’re going to be on the BBC, and you, my friends, have a lot of paperwork in front of you. We’re going to have to go through a real fucking formal hiring process.”

“If you still want to do it,” Harry adds quickly. “It’s not, like, going to be a full-time job or anything, but the salary will go up from what we advertised, and there may be, I dunno, promo events and things.” Nick told him that too, how much of his time is taken up with things that aren’t the radio. And of course they’ll be nothing like Nick’s level, but still.

“Is it going to be more travel then?” Liam asks. “It seems like you lads mostly stay round here, but if we have to be going up and down the country, that takes more time, doesn’t it?”

“It won’t be yet,” says Harry. “But if the show takes off, we don’t know. International fame, maybe, cheering fans at the airport. All that. We’ll be keeping it to weekends just now, for the investigations, and we can fit all the analysis in throughout the week.”

“Not that I’m not chuffed,” says Jade, “but why hire people on if the format’s just about to change? Won’t that just make it harder?”

“If we hadn’t done it, they would have done it for us,” says Louis. “Two of us can’t carry a whole show the way they want it done. So we figured we’d hire our own help before anyone shoved some at us.”

“That’s incredible,” says Niall. “And you couldn’t have told us last week? Your poker face is better than I would have thought, Lou. You never said a word when we were out.”

“Team meeting, team announcement,” replies Louis with a shrug. “Didn’t want to spoil the surprise. And now here you all are.”

“Is it a long-term contract?” Liam asks, and Louis gives him a narrow look. “What I mean is, if it doesn’t work out for some reason, or if we’re just rubbish with ghosts, can we stop?”

“It’s not long-term. It’s a six episode series. And then if they like that and people watch it, there’ll be another. But if it doesn’t work out, there are probably things we can do. My uncle’s a lawyer, so he looked at some of the contracts for us. He could definitely go over that with you.”

“Wouldn’t he charge?” Jade asks. “Lawyers don’t come cheap.”

“I always pay him in biscuits,” says Harry. “I like to bake. If that’s just a family rate though, we can sort something. We don’t want anyone getting into anything blind, or stuck in anything they don’t want.”

“You said you had something planned in the next couple of weeks,” says Liam tentatively. “Could we maybe not sign anything until after that? Or is that not going to work? I think it’ll be fine, obviously, but none of us have ever done this before, and it’s a lot to commit to.”

Louis looks ready to give a rousing speech that will convince them all to sign anything he puts in front of them, but Harry gives him a look. “Let’s wait until after that then. We can see how we are as a team and then everyone can decide what they want to do.”

*

It’s a disaster almost from the moment they arrive at the house. The homeowners are nervy and don’t enunciate well, and as helpful and friendly as Harry is, it’s obvious the footage is likely to be rubbish from the initial interview. They aren’t living in the house yet, and all the talk about ghosts has them a little unsettled about moving in. The builders have mostly finished, but there are huddled strips of moulding and stacks of tile in the rooms where the interior is still unfinished. There’s almost no furniture, except in the one bedroom the homeowners have set up for themselves. Which is bad both for laying down wires and for giving the spirits anything to interact with.

The only good thing is that Jade shows up with her laptop and a pile of newspaper articles with bits highlighted. She can tell the homeowners conclusively that their house was built in 1888, that the original owner gave etiquette lessons to local girls in the big parlour on the ground floor after her husband died, and that three children from London had been fostered here during the Blitz. They’re pleased, obviously, looking at their house with new eyes, and Louis feels so proud of Jade he could burst.

He goes inside to help Niall and Liam set up command central, leaving Harry and Jade to finish their first round of PR. They’ve brought in most of the stuff from the car, and half Louis’s possessions are now strewn around the empty kitchen.

“You really need a packing list,” Niall tells him first thing. “I’ve been looking for an aux cable for about fifteen minutes.”

Louis pulls a cable from his pocket and tosses it onto the counter. “If I had a packing list, that trick would be a lot less impressive.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Cheers.”

Outside it’s getting dark, and Louis’s getting into the kind of calm that will set him up for the night. There’ll be a bit of road noise to contend with, but they’ve worked through worse, and Liam and Niall are getting monitors hooked up. More than one monitor because they’re going to be investigating in more than one team; they’ll have multiple streams of footage to watch back, multiple people to track through the house. It’s a kind of coordination Louis and Harry on their own have never had to worry about.

“How does it look?” Liam asks, picking up one of the EMF detectors and turning it over in his hand.

“Brilliant, lads. It’s going to be a good night.”

Niall and Liam smile back at him, Niall confidently and Liam with a kind of tentative hope. Louis thinks if he says it enough, he can make them all believe it.

Louis’s confidence takes a serious beating the moment Harry’s hayfever starts acting up and his sneezing is so loud he has to be sent downstairs and then out of the house entirely so they don’t have audio of it all night. He has to call his mum to bring him antihistamines, and when he comes back inside, his voice is even slower than usual. Louis’s threatening to subtitle him when there’s a tremendous series of crashes, and they run out of the bedroom they’ve been looking in to find Liam’s fallen down the rickety cellar stairs. They have to turn on the lights to see if he’s hurt and Louis frantically readjusts the camera for normal light as he asks, “Did you feel anything unusual before you fell? Sudden dizziness? Did anything push you?”

Liam’s shaking his head, looking dazed as Niall feels around the ankle he says hurts worst. “No pushing. I just tripped on something. Or nothing, maybe. Hard to tell in the dark.”

Louis goes up and down the steps with the camera twice and then turns it off and calls for a ten minute break to regroup. They’ll get better at this. They have to.

By the end of the night they’ve got a few tapes to listen back to, but no personal experiences, and probably the best part of the whole thing from the homeowners’ perspective is that Liam gives them a business card and tells them he can get them a discount on the plumbing inspection they so desperately need now he’s seen the state of their pipes. 

“Should I not have done that?” he asks, as they heft all the equipment into the back of the van. “Is it like crossing the streams and all?”

Louis shrugs. “Got into this to help people, didn’t we? They obviously don’t need help with ghosts, so at least we’ve done something useful for them.”

*

Harry hates feeling as though he’s lying to Louis, to anyone, but the fact is it’s been nearly a month since he came back from the yoga retreat and he still hasn’t said one word to Louis about Nick, even though he and Nick have been texting and FaceTiming every day. He should. He knows he should. But it seemed like a fling at first, a fun story to trot out once Nick stopped answering his messages, and then Nick didn’t, hasn’t. So now he’s waiting for the train down to London to spend the weekend with this guy he thinks might be his boyfriend in addition to having six million daily listeners on the radio, and his best friend doesn’t even know. It’s not right. Harry almost phones Louis from the station just to get it off his mind, but it’s early yet, and it’s not worth waking Louis up over. Besides, it’s still possible they’ll hate each other when there isn’t a yurt involved.

Harry spends the first part of the journey reading a book he got from the library about auras, and the next part staring out the window, and by the time the buildings start getting taller around them he’s got his nose practically pressed to the glass, the train winding into the heart of London.

Nick’s there to meet him just the other side of the ticket gate, and Harry doesn’t know if he’s meant to hug him or kiss him or anything, so he just waits for Nick to hold out his arms and invite him in. And then they fit together so nicely again, just like they did on the retreat, arms overlapping as Nick pulls back to kiss him on the cheek. There might be photographers, Harry thinks, and then that thought runs circles in his head for a while. Every part of this is so new.

“Is this all you brought?” Nick asks, pointing incredulously at Harry’s bulging rucksack, and Harry nods. 

“It’s just a weekend, right? Who really needs to be taking loads of stuff for two days?”

“ _Me_ ,” replies Nick. “I never go anywhere with less than a suitcase.”

“But isn’t that a pain, always carting it around?”

“More of a pain to head out to dinner in the wrong outfit.” He eyes Harry up and down. “Except I imagine you haven’t got that problem.”

Harry tugs the cuff of his jumper down over his fingers. “Is there something wrong with what I’ve got on?”

“Of course not. I just mean you’re fit, you’d look good in anything. If I’m honest though, I’m hoping the yoga pants will make a reappearance.”

“We’ll see,” says Harry. He feels too warm with Nick’s eyes on him now, squirmy and hot inside with the knowledge that they’ll probably have sex this weekend. He’d suffered days of “it’s too weird doing it in a yurt” and weeks since of working each other up but not getting off on FaceTime. He’s so ready to be touched.

“Do you want to go back to mine?” Nick asks, and Harry wonders if Nick’s seeing straight into his thoughts.

“Yeah. That’d be good.”

“Come on. I brought the car. I thought you’d have luggage.”

“Next time I’ll remember that. I didn’t realise I’d need to dress for dinner.”

“Shut up.” Nick squeezes the back of his neck, fond, and Harry’s knees go a little weak.

It takes ages to get to Nick’s house in east London with the traffic, and Nick turns on Radio 1 in the background, songs Harry hears every day now he’s started properly listening to Nick’s show in the mornings.

“My diary is completely clear this weekend,” says Nick. “We can do whatever you like.”

“And if I want to just stay in bed all weekend?”

Nick seems unfazed. “Then we could do that too. Although the dogs will need to go out. They haven’t got a lot of sympathy for that sort of thing.”

Harry grins. “Maybe not the whole weekend then. You can show me your neighbourhood and stuff too, buy me a beer maybe, introduce me to some of the people you talk about on the radio.” He rubs his hands over his thighs, feels Nick’s eyes on him as they pull up to another red light. “We are going to have sex though, right? Among other things?”

“We’re going to have so much sex.”

“I still don’t understand what you’ve got against yurts.”

“I’ve got nothing against yurts. They’re just not real buildings.”

“So you’re saying you go to Glastonbury every year and never had sex in a tent?”

Nick’s mouth quirks. “Well, not sober. I like walls. Doors. A roof, even. And a real bed that doesn’t squeak.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

The dogs are leaping and scrabbling at the door by the time they make it up the walk from the street, and Nick’s saying, “Alright, yes, I hear you. So exciting. Houseguests. Who wouldn’t throw a fit about that?” When he gets the door open, he catches them by their collars, shushing them as they rush for Harry. But Harry goes down on the floor with them right away, wet noses shoving at his knees as Nick shuts the door behind him.

“Pig and Stinky, right?” Harry says. Nick nods, watching him like a proud parent. Harry feels like this is a test, and he’s passing. “Hi, puppies. I’m going to spend the weekend with you. That’s exciting, isn’t it?” Stinky licks his wrist.

“Do you want coffee or anything? Water? Snacks?” Nick asks. He dodges around Harry and the dogs.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“If they ever let you go, you can put your bag down in here.”

Harry gets one hand on each of their heads, rubbing between their ears. He can feel Nick’s eyes on him still, and he likes it. He likes the thought that he fits into Nick’s life, less like a fling in a yurt and more like real friends, or whatever they are. The “whatever they are” makes his heart wobble a little bit, but he ignores it.

When the dogs lay off their frantic sniffing for a moment, Harry stands up and smiles at Nick. He takes a step closer, the dogs still swarming around them, and Nick reaches out a hand, curling a finger into his beltloop. Harry licks his lips.

“So you don’t want coffee, you don’t want food, what do you want?”

Harry kisses him, leaning in, Nick’s hands catching him around the waist. “What a stupid question,” he says into Nick’s mouth, and he chases Nick’s smile with his tongue.

“Upstairs,” says Nick, tugging Harry’s lower lip with his teeth.

There’s a loud squawk behind them, and Harry turns to see Pig expectant with a rubber bone, her tail wagging furiously. “Do they need something?”

“No,” replies Nick. “They’re just spoiled. Come on.”

He leads Harry up the stairs, the dogs thundering behind like it’s a game, and he has to hold them back with a leg across the doorway as he tries to close the bedroom door. Harry’s already undressing by the time Nick’s got the dogs safely in the hall, and Nick’s eyes drink in every inch of him. It’s not as though he was never naked in their week together, but it wasn’t the same, Nick’s right about that.

Nick kisses him again, harder, more demanding, and Harry wants his lips bruised with it. He runs his hands up over Nick’s shoulders, looping one around the back of his neck. Harry’s down to just his jeans and trainers, but Nick’s still got on layers he has to paw through, and there’s no reason to wait. 

They fumble back to the bed, and Harry pushes at Nick’s jumper until Nick strips it off with the t-shirt underneath. He doesn’t want to waste time with his shoelaces, so he works his shoes off one foot then the other, followed by his socks, while Nick presses nipping kisses down the side of his neck.

“What do you like, love?” Nick asks, and Harry can’t think of a single thing he doesn’t like, so he kisses Nick’s mouth again, gliding their tongues together.

Nick stretches out on the bed and pulls Harry down next to him, both of them in jeans but hard enough that Harry can’t keep his hips still. When Nick reaches for his fly, he arches into the touch, Nick’s quick fingers yanking down his zip and curling over the weight of his cock. Harry makes a sound in the back of his throat and Nick kisses the corner of his jaw. “Can I get a look at you?” Nick murmurs, next to his ear, and Harry shoves his pants and jeans down as far as he can in one go, tangling them around his thighs. He likes his dick just fine anyway, but the appreciative little noise Nick makes when he gets it out makes him flush with pleasure. Nick fumbles at the side of the bed, comes back with his hand slick, settling into a firm grip on Harry’s cock.

“S’good,” says Harry, rolling his hips up towards Nick’s hand. “I want to…”

Nick undoes his jeans one-handed, and then his dick’s right there for Harry to touch. His hand is dry, and Nick flinches as he starts to stroke, but there’s an easy solution to that. He tugs Nick down on top of him and squirms until their dicks line up just right and he can kiss Nick and rut up into him and get everything he wants all at once. Nick groans and grips at Harry’s hips, long fingers digging into his flesh, holding him in place, and it all feels so good he knows it’s going to be over quickly. But they’ve got all weekend, so Harry opens his legs around Nick’s, changing the angle where their bodies meet. It’s hot and slick in the space between their bellies, and Harry gasps as he finds himself close to the brink, toes curling against Nick’s duvet as he starts to come. Nick kisses him distractedly, reaching down to stroke himself to orgasm, and Harry watches his face as he comes, the hitch of his eyebrows and the softness of his mouth.

He lies sprawled on Nick’s bed for a few long minutes after, finally starting to take in the room, a plush chair in the corner and photographs all over the wall in front of him. Famous people and Nick’s friends and probably some famous people who are Nick’s friends. He remembers again that he’s about to be a BBC employee, like Nick, that in six months’ time he’ll probably be able to watch himself on the TV on Nick’s wall. He doesn’t know if that will ever get normal. He doesn’t know if any of this will.

Nick presses a fingertip to the centre of his forehead. “You’ll get wrinkles like that. What you thinking so hard about, love?”

“Being on TV. It’s not even proper TV, with BBC3 being all online now, but it’s just, I dunno. It’s hard to wrap my head around it. It’s so different from anything I’ve done before.”

“Have you filmed your first episode yet?”

Harry shakes his head, thinking of their last hunt, everyone tripping over each other all night.

“It may not be that different. I remember going on the radio with Annie Mac, and we were just chatting, and then every once in a while I’d think, Fucking hell, millions of people might be listening to this. But it was really just us and a couple of producers in a studio while we were doing it. And when you’re filming, it’ll be just you and your mates and a couple of, well, whatever it is they send on ghost hunts.”

“Producers still, I think. I don’t know what they’ll make of us. We’ve got no idea what we’re doing.”

“Sure you do. You’ve been doing it on the internet for ages. I watched some of your videos. You’re dead funny.”

“That a ghost joke?”

“If you like.” Nick kisses his cheek and sits up. Harry can hear the dogs’ toenails clicking away in the hallway. “Let’s get cleaned up a bit and I’ll buy you lunch, alright?” He checks the time on his phone. “Late lunch. We can even take the dogs if you like. Pub up the road’s got a beer garden at the back and it doesn’t look horrible outside.”

Harry wipes himself down with a wet flannel in Nick’s en-suite, marvelling at the size of the shower stall. He’ll have to suggest they see how it fits two later. He gets dressed again and runs a hand through his hair, which he hopes is messy in a hipster way. “You look good,” Nick says.

Harry looks at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. “Thanks. You too.” Nick’s got on a different jumper from earlier, and it looks like the sort of thing Harry could happily rub his face in for half an hour. It’s different seeing him out of workout clothes. He’s more like the person Harry sees on the Mail website, less like someone who hobbles around a yoga retreat bemoaning the condition of his fickle body.

Pig and Stinky are sat outside the bedroom door looking pitiful, and Nick rolls his eyes. “You’d think you’d been left out in the cold to starve or summat. Come on, move along, it’s past time other people had their lunch.” The dogs go clattering down the stairs and take up their pitiful act by the front door instead. Harry watches him clip their leads on, holding the ends of both in one hand.

“Do you want one?” Nick asks. “Pig pulls harder, but Stinky’s more likely to wander into the street for no reason. Also he really just wants to be carried everywhere.”

“I’ll take Stinky. I don’t even mind carrying him.”

“You say that now. He’s quite a hefty pup once you’ve had him snoozing on your arm for half a mile.”

It can’t be as much as half a mile to the pub, and it’s sunny outside if not exactly warm. Harry keeps Stinky’s lead curled tight around his fist, but Stinky just waddles obediently along in front of him.

Nick’s got an opinion on every shop and restaurant they pass, and Harry likes listening to him talk, even if it’s about things like wilted lettuce and the best naan in the neighbourhood. Maybe especially if it is, since these are the things that make Nick’s everyday life, the life Harry isn’t part of while he’s living up north.

The pub isn’t crowded when they arrive, since it’s an odd hour, but Nick buys him a beer and orders burgers for them both, even though they’re warned it may be awhile on the food. Harry picks out the sunniest corner of the patio at the back, the dogs settling at their feet, Pig’s wet nose cold on Harry’s shin. He looks at Nick, and Nick looks back at him with a fond smile, and Harry’s insides get all twisted up with it.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“Course. Unless it’s about maths or summat. I can’t help you on maths.”

“It’s not maths. It’s just that I’ve been wondering, since you invited me down here and all. And we text all the time. Are you my boyfriend?”

Nick pauses with his hand on his pint, looks at Harry squarely. “Do you think that would be a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I think it would probably be good. Unless you don’t think so. In which case, well, maybe it wouldn’t.” He pokes at a knot in the top of the table, fitting his fingertip into the little hollow of it.”

“It might be bad for you,” Nick tells him. “Historically speaking, I’m actually worse at boyfriends than I am at yoga. And that’s an impressive precedent.”

“Do you usually, like, fall over with boyfriends? Or is it different?”

“I nearly set my hair on fire on a date once. That was quite a thing to do with someone I’d met exactly twice before.”

“Was it on purpose?”

“You mean to get out of it? No. There are a few I might have gone that far with though.”

Harry looks across the table at him. “I’m not, like, an expert at it either. I mean, I’ve never lit myself on fire, but I don’t really do it much. I sort of thought you’d stop texting me once we got home and that would be it.”

“I like texting you.” Nick traces a finger around the base of his pint glass. “And I could try, with the boyfriend bit. But I probably won’t, like, tell soppy stories about you on the radio, just so you know. Some people seem to expect that from dating me.”

“I wouldn’t,” says Harry, putting his hand close to Nick’s on the tabletop. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind it, but you shouldn’t have to talk about me.”

“Good.” He runs his thumb across Harry’s knuckles, almost absently. “I might, sometimes, but the papers get themselves all worked up about who I date, and it’s easier if I just don’t. Or if I go out with someone and it’s bad and that’s funny. Bad date stories always go over well on the radio.”

“I could try to be funnier.”

“Thanks, love. You’re a professional ghost hunter, that’s a good start already.”

“Hey.”

Nick smiles and gives his hand a proper squeeze. “I like it. I keep dating models and actors and stuff. At least you’re a departure. My mum’ll be proud. But it’s early days yet. Best not to bring her into it, yeah?”

“You’ve already met my mum. She thinks you’re best friends.”

Nick looks affronted. “You’re saying we aren’t?”

Harry laughs. “I wouldn’t dare imply that. You and my mum obviously have a special bond.”

“Eileen’s not much for yoga. And she’s a lot older than your mum. Since I’m a lot older than you and all, I suppose that’s not surprising.”

“Not that much older.”

“Almost ten years. I was going to clubs to see Oasis with my brother when you were in nappies.”

“Only if you were doing that at twelve.”

“I was.”

Harry squeezes his fingers. “Quite a humblebrag, then.”

“Yeah. But I am older. It’s not… not noticeable. People may talk about it.”

“I don’t mind being talked about. If you don’t mind. Not that I can stop it if you do mind, but…” He thinks again about being on TV, about having people all over the country taking a sudden interest in his personal life. Because of him, not even because of Nick. “How famous did you have to be before people started caring who you were dating?”

“Depends on who. The Mail won’t notice you for ages, but as soon as you get on TV, someone’s going to care. And people will care that it’s me. Not to make a thing of it.”

“They’re the ones making a thing of it.”

A waiter slides their burgers onto the table and Pig lifts her head from Harry’s shoe.

“Don’t give her anything,” Nick says distractedly as Pig snuffles at Harry’s knee and Stinky whines from under Nick’s chair.

Harry takes a bite of his burger while Pig watches him sadly. He swallows before he says, “I don’t feel like you’re much older.”

“I do work in youth radio still.”

“But I mean, like, do you think I’m too young?”

“For what?”

“For you?”

Nick shakes vinegar onto his chips for a bit before answering, and Harry watches the slow drip of it. “I don’t think so. But I mostly do date people younger than me, so maybe I’m not a good judge.”

“Do you do it on purpose?”

“I dunno. My friends my age are all getting married and having babies. Everyone I know who’s still single is younger. But I make some choices of my own. Or stumble into strangers in yurts.” Nick taps his foot against Harry’s ankle under the table since his hands are full of burger. “You’re a catch.”

They wander back to Nick’s around five and snog on the sofa for a while in the absence of other plans. Harry loves kissing Nick, uninterrupted by yoga classes or his mum popping in for a chat, even with Stinky watching interestedly from a pillow in the corner of the room. It’s easy to just do that for a while, until Nick’s phone buzzes, and Nick pulls himself away to look.

“My friend Pixie wants to know if we’re up for dinner tonight.”

“I’m still full from lunch,” says Harry, looking at Nick’s mouth. “But yeah, if you like.”

“I’ll tell her to plan for later. I’m sure she’ll pick someplace dead cool.”

“Is that Pixie like Geldof?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s still a bit weird.”

Nick tuts. “Don’t get starstruck over a Geldof. Save it for Kate or someone.”

Harry freezes. “We’re not having dinner with Kate Moss, are we?”

“Not tonight, no.” Nick grins. “But I’ll work on it if you like. She’s usually up for a laugh.”

Harry sits up, combing his fingers through his mussed hair and trying to fathom how desperately uncool he’d look to Kate Moss. “Isn’t that weird? Having your friends be, like, supermodels and people off the telly and everything?”

“When they’re my friends, they’re my friends though. They’re not on the telly. I don’t hang out with celebrities who are rubbish company. Or not by choice. Sometimes that’ll just happen to you too, I’m sure. Someone off of TOWIE is standing next to you at a club, and you’ll pretend to be interested in every bloody detail of his workout routine.”

Harry laughs, trying to imagine himself in a situation like that. “I’m not sure I’d recognise the people off of TOWIE. I might just think he was hitting on me and tell him I was taken.”

“Direct approach. I like it. It can’t be worse than anything I’ve tried over the years.”

“What exactly have you said to guys off of TOWIE in clubs?” Harry says incredulously.

“Faked violent illness once. And then showed up to work the next morning and had to pretend to be still the worse for wear in case any of them happened to be up before noon to listen.”

Harry laughs. “What are the chances of that though, really?”

“Not great. I can’t even get my friends to listen most weeks. Except the ones with babies sometimes, and they’re up all hours delirious from sleep deprivation, so I don’t expect them to absorb much.”

“Is _that_ weird? I keep thinking about, like, auntie Laura seeing me on the telly and wanting to talk about what I did or where I went. Right now she only ever knows where I am by my mum’s facebook.”

“I like it. I can imagine I’m chatting to them, trying to remember stuff I haven’t told them yet. It helps when you can think of the listeners like your friends.”

Harry isn’t sure about that. It must show in his face.

“You won’t have to do anything live for ages,” says Nick reassuringly. “And even then it’ll be, like, stupid skits for Red Nose Day and things. Your show will be edited before the great British public even sees it, so you don’t need to worry about forgetting your best stories.”

“We did livestreams on YouTube a couple of times, just answering questions and stuff. It wasn’t so bad. But we’d get really excited anytime there were, like, a few hundred people watching. That felt massive.”

“It is massive. It’s what got you the job you have now.”

*

Louis doesn’t mind planning hunts on his own. He and Harry have always taken it in turns, scouting locations and getting permission, and now that there’s an office full of people helping out with permissions and things, it’s even easier. But he doesn’t like that he has no bloody clue where Harry is and hasn’t done since Friday morning. They’ve exchanged quick texts, so there have been a million opportunities for Harry to say he’s got a family event or extra shifts in the pub, but it’s just a blank.

So Louis throws himself into work, enlisting Niall to plot out their next hunt with a sketch of the church layout and several different coloured marker pens. They’ve mostly only done private homes before, and a whole church and grounds seems like a jump in scale, even if the reason for it is just the same; jumpy parishioners need reassurance against evil spirits as much as anyone. Louis and Niall mark out a spot for their control centre for the night, as well as paths to all the most likely spots for spirit activity. The church has been refurbished recently, and it seems as though for once there may be enough plug sockets to suit. Niall draws little stick figure versions of all of them in the churchyard, and then little ghosts in among them. It’s probably not BBC-worthy, but it makes Louis smile.

“What? You’ve never done this with your maps before?” Niall asks with a grin.

“Never had a map before. We’re…” He can’t quite admit how embarrassed he was by the last hunt going so badly wrong, “we’re just trying to be a bit more organised. Makes for fewer lawsuits from anyone falling down the stairs. And less chance of sacking from the BBC.”

“Sound thinking,” says Niall. He puts a little porkpie hat on one of the ghosts in the churchyard as Louis goes back to talking about shift timing in the church and grounds. His phone buzzes on the table, and Niall thumbs open a new text. “I should go in a bit. I’m meeting Jade later.”

Louis feels pleased that his team is gelling and, on the heels of that, annoyed that they’re gelling without him. “Where are you off to?”

“Her mate’s performing in a drag show at a bar in the city, so she asked me to tag along.”

“Sounds like a laugh.”

“Should be good. Jade’s great on a night out. Anyway, let’s finish this up. I wouldn’t want to leave you with any unfinished ghosts.”

*

Harry listens to soppy love songs all the way back on the train on Sunday night and he genuinely can’t keep the smile off his face. Everything inside him feels lighter than usual, and he wants to carry this feeling around forever.

It lasts as far as the door to the train station. Niall’s stood outside with a cluster of primary school kids, and he sees Harry before Harry can think of an excuse for being there. “Hey, mate! Fancy meeting you here,” says Niall, as Harry walks over, the serene smile he’s been wearing all day turning slightly panicked. The kids are staring at him as well, which doesn’t help.

“Where are you all headed?” Harry asks, looking around at the kids with their suitcases.

“Just back from York, actually. I’m just here to make sure the kids get home all right. Their choirmaster’s over there doing the same. Did you just come off the train from London?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I was…” His mind goes totally blank. “I was just down there to…”

Niall looks expectantly at him, but Harry’s got nothing to say, not even a bad lie.

“I’ve sort of got a boyfriend.” The kids are still goggling at him like this is TV. “It’s really new and not that serious yet, but I went down to spend the weekend with him.”

“Yeah? Did it go alright?”

“Yeah, brilliant. Thanks. Listen, I know this is a huge thing to ask, but could you maybe not tell Louis you saw me?”

Niall’s face falls, and he bites his lip. Harry knows his suspicions were right on. “Does he have a problem with…”

“No,” Harry replies quickly. “No, not at all. He’s known I was bi since we were fifteen. But I just. I dunno. I don’t want it to be a big deal. That I’m seeing someone. When it might not work out.” It sounds so lame, but explaining Nick to Louis, to anyone, feels harder than it should. It’s not like dating someone local, someone their age, someone who doesn’t talk to five million people every morning.

“Sure thing, mate. You tell him in your own time. I hope the whole thing works out for you though.”

“Thanks. Me too.”

“What’s he like?”

“Funny. Tall. Handsome.” Harry looks around at the little huddle of kids. “There was some stuff we finally got round to this weekend, if you take my meaning, and it was brilliant.”

Niall grins. “Glad that’s going well then.”

Harry thinks about Nick taking him out to dinner with his friends, introducing him all round, not saying the word “boyfriend” but everyone sort of knowing anyway. Why’s it so hard to tell any of his friends about Nick? “He’s older, and he’s got, like, a pretty established career. And I’m, like. I don’t know. Whatever we are.”

“Professional ghost hunters. Not a bad gig, really. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“No,” Harry agrees. “I’m not ashamed. He doesn’t make me feel ashamed. There’s just a lot changing all at once, you know? And I don’t want to make a big deal of my personal life in the middle of it.”

“Not a word then. You take your time.”

*

Louis gathers everyone together in the first pew of the church. He thinks about actually standing at the pulpit, but with an actual BBC cameraman there, an actual BBC producer, it seems like the sacrilege might be less funny. He doesn’t know quite where the lines will be, and even though they’ve all been told to just be themselves, be exactly as they usually are, that’s no guarantee of anything.

“Okay,” he says, pacing in front the pew. “So tonight we’re going to do this properly. We’re going to split up, take shifts at mission control here, go out in pairs so we can keep each other from falling down the bloody stairs this time. And every time we enter a room we’re going to do a time check and say we’re there. I don’t want to spend an hour debunking anyone’s shadow this time. Is that clear?”

They all nod. Louis feels as though he should have a whip or something, some kind of prop to tap against his hand as he walks. It’s a struggle not to look at the camera, to keep his eyes on the four of them in the pew: Niall eager, Harry quizzical, Jade attentive, and Liam contrite. Despite the fact that none of them have done anything wrong. Yet.

“I’ll go out in the graveyard with Niall,” Harry volunteers.

Louis looks down at his empty hands so they won’t see him scowl. He hadn’t meant to ask for volunteers yet. “Okay, first outdoor shift for Harry and Niall. Who wants to take the first hour at HQ?”

“I’ll do it,” says Jade. “Might be best to start off slow.”

“Then Liam and I will start out in the choir loft. Alright?”

Liam nods.

“Good. Lights out in five. Anyone who needs a wee go now, or your flushing will be on the audio later.”

The stairs to the choir loft are narrow and steep, and in the dark with an infrared camera in his hand, Louis’s concerned about taking his own advice not to fall down them. He steps carefully onto each tread, Liam a few steps behind him, everything quiet and dark as they step out into the more open space at the top of the church. There are rows of chairs on the risers, and it’s probably sort of functional and normal in the daylight. Louis holds his breath as Liam comes up next to him.

There’s a thump, muffled by the carpet but clearly audible, the sound of something small but heavy. “Louis and Liam in the choir loft,” Louis says into the recorder. “10:02 pm. And we definitely just heard something.”

“Did we leave any equipment up here?” Liam asks. “Was it something of ours?” He’s stepping out in front of Louis, picking his way along beside the railing that separates them from the long drop into the sanctuary. Louis keeps the camera on him, following his progress. He thinks through the list of their recording devices, stationary cameras and newly upgraded digital audio. “There was audio only. Niall put it up here. I don’t know where.”

Liam bends down, and Louis steps closer, quietly, barely breathing, so that when Liam straightens up suddenly they nearly knock heads, and Louis has to catch himself on the arm of a chair, which nearly overturns. Liam makes a startled noise and puts a hand on his arm. The camera barely stays in Louis’s hand, and it’s just going to be a closeup of Liam’s nose for a second. He’s glad the actual cameraman is outside.

“Well?” he says, drawing back from Liam’s nose. “Did you find something?”

“No. It was a hymnal someone left. I thought maybe it was what fell, but it’s just left there under the chair.”

“We can try dropping it at least.”

Liam looks at the camera. “Really? Won’t the choir be mad?”

“Don’t drop it off the side of the loft or anything. Just on the carpet. To test. If we get an angry letter or two from offended pensioners, the better for it. Or we can edit this bit out because it’s dead boring. Come on, Payne, drop the book.”

Liam gropes under the chair to retrieve the book again. Louis watches him through the camera. It’s not quite pitch dark up here, but it’s hard to make out much with the glare of the camera’s screen in front of his face. Liam stands, looks at the camera with a sort of sceptical frown. He drops the hymnal from chest height.

It thumps on the floor and falls open. “Think the spine’s cracked at a sexy bit?” Louis asks, bending down to look.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there are no sexy bits in a hymnal.”

Louis still can’t see the words on the page, between the darkness and the camera’s glare. “There’s sexy bits in the Bible,” Louis points out. “We used to read them aloud in RE, all that Song of Solomon stuff. Racy for twelve year olds.”

“I don’t think there are any hymns of that.”

Louis gives up, scooping the book up and laying it on the chair. “Anyway, that doesn’t sound right. There’s gotta be something else up here. Where’d Niall put the bloody recorder?”

“We could just ask him.”

Louis pulls the walkie off his belt and flips it on. “Oi, Niall!”

There’s a crackle, and then Niall’s voice, a smile behind it like he and Harry are having the time of their fucking lives out in the graveyard. Annoyance flares in Louis’s gut. “What’s up, mate?”

“Where’d you put the recorder in choir loft? We can’t find it up here.”

“It’s on a chair in the back row. The light should be on if it’s working.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Cheers.” He flips the walkie off again, without saying, “It’s my fucking recorder, I know the light should be on.”

He climbs the riser to the back row, trying to let his eyes adjust to the dark around the camera screen. There’s no sign of the recorder as he feels across the seats, fumbling over the cushions.

“Did you hear that?” Liam asks, and Louis looks up sharply.

“No. What was it?” If he could find the fucking recorder he could play it back and see if there was something.

“It sounded like a scream. But maybe outside? Or the wind?”

The walkie crackles back on. “Lou?” comes Harry’s voice.

“Yeah, mate. Go.”

“Did you hear a scream?”

“No, but Liam did. A fox, maybe?”

“Out here it sounded like it came from the roof. No foxes on the roof.”

“There’s no roof access anywhere, is there?”

He can Harry talking to someone else, a rising and falling buzz, although he leaves the walkie on to pick it up. “Did you hear that?”

“No. Another scream?”

“No. Definitely not paranormal. Darren says there’s no roof access that’ll pass muster with BBC health and safety.”

“Okay.” That’s not the sort of thing that would have bothered Louis three months ago. He’s clambered up gables and hopped between beams in attics with no floor. The BBC says they should be themselves, but not quite that much themselves. He looks at Liam. “If there’s a fox on the roof, we’ll never know.” His foot connects with something on the floor and it goes skidding into the baseboard. “Fucking hell.”

“Is that the recorder?” Liam asks.

Louis fumbles around in the corner of the loft until his fingers connect with the familiar buttons and ridges of the recorder. When he pulls it out from the darkness behind a box full of more hymnals, the light is on, a steady red glow. Louis sets it back on the chair and stares at it for a moment. “We would have seen that, wouldn’t we?” Louis asks. “If the recording light were on.”

“I think we would have.” Now they’re both staring at it. “So that means that, like, it fell off the chair, turned itself off, and then turned itself back on when you found it?”

“Maybe,” says Louis. He picks it up off the chair and drops it from waist height, not far enough to do any damage. It makes a solid thunk and the light stays on. “That sounds right. We’ll listen back at the end of the night. Maybe there’s some EVP or something.”

“We could, like, hang out a bit, see if we get anything else.”

Louis flops down into the chair beside the recorder. “Good shout. Whoever’s up here with us fancy a bit of a chat?”

Liam sits in the row in front of him, looking out at the sanctuary. Louis swings the camera across him. Everything is quiet. “Anyone up here interested in dirty hymns?” Liam asks. “Or really offended by dirty hymns? We’re looking for either. Just trying to get some opinions.”

“You want to sing something for us, maybe? Do you not like having your singing recorded? Is that why you knocked that thing on the floor? My little sister recorded me singing in the shower once and I was furious. Is that something that bothers you?”

There’s a rustling in front of them, and Louis moves the camera slowly, looking for movement in the dark. He pauses on the hymnal in the first row. “Shit.” It’s open, the pages swaying. Louis wonders whether it’s the same page. “Do you want us to sing with you?”

Liam fishes out a flashlight to see the page this time.

They regroup in mission control in the new wing of the church at 11, all of them blinking blearily in even that low light. “Anything here?” Louis asks.

Jade tucks her headphones around her neck. “A few shadows. I’ve marked the logs with the times. Otherwise well boring in here. I’m ready to move.”

“I’ll swap with you,” Liam says at once. “Louis and I got some good stuff in the loft. I could use a break.”

“Perfect,” says Harry, before Louis can suggest he and Niall check out the sanctuary. “Louis and Jade in the graveyard, and Niall and I will go downstairs.”

“Fine,” says Louis. What makes Harry think he can monopolise Niall all night though? What makes him want to? It’s not like he’s got a special claim on Niall. “Jade, do you need anything before we head out?”

She’s already handing off the headphones and grabbing her jacket from the back of the chair. “All good. Can I try the EMF this time?”

“Of course.”

It’s colder outside than Louis thought, and he wishes he’d worn socks and a proper jacket as dew soaks into his trainers. Jade strides off ahead of him, towards the little spire of a mausoleum, shaded in slanting moonlight. Louis hasn’t got any particular background on the graveyard or who might be buried there, but Jade might, so he follows her.

“Have you got a plan here?” Louis asks. 

Jade shrugs. “It’s about the same as in any churchyard. Start with something that looks really old, and work forward in time. Every churchyard will have its older and newer parts as it expands, and you can usually tell going row by row.” Louis can practically hear that as a bit of narration from the BBC, and it occurs to him that he’s probably not very good at sounding professional.

They’re moving along the outside the church now, and Jade’s peering closely at the engravings on every surface, which Louis’s sure he couldn’t read even in daylight.

“Did you ever do grave rubbings when you were at school?” Jade asks, running her fingers along the weather-beaten edge of one of the stones.

“Once, I think, but it was for a family history project, nothing like this.”

“I loved it when we did it. Is that morbid? It’s so quiet in a churchyard, and you get to preserve a little bit of something just as it is at that moment.” She glances back at the silent camera operator following them. “Although I suppose that’s what the film’s for as well, isn’t it?”

They pass through a break in a low stone wall, and then even Louis can tell this is the oldest part of the churchyard. The hair on his arms prickles, and he squints into the dark woods at the edge of the church grounds. “Do you see something through there?” he asks.

She steps in closer to his side, and the camera operator takes two steps towards them as Louis aims the camera at the break in the trees. Two glowing orbs glint back to him, and he breathes out a sigh. “There’s our fox.” He watches the ripple of movement as it turns and runs, out of sight between the trees in an instant.

*

Possibly the biggest difference in working for the BBC is that they don’t get involved in the editing of their first episode until the end, when they’re emailed a link to a screener with a watermark across it. Louis did the voiceover intro explaining who they are and where they’re investigating, but it’s strange hearing his own voice in a video he didn’t put it in, alongside an opening that was obviously made by a professional who knew what they were doing.

He and Harry watch on Harry’s laptop on Harry’s bed, just like they used to check the view counts on their earliest videos, supported on a pile of pillows. Louis’s still feeling a bit raw and resentful from the hunt, from the sense that Harry’s hiding something from him. Harry makes notes in his journal as they watch, brow furrowed solemnly. Louis doesn’t know where he’d start on his own feedback. It’s too weird, too different from anything they’ve done before. He’ll probably need to watch it again, on his own, to figure out what he thinks.

When the video ends, Harry sets the laptop aside and turns to him. “That was good, right? That was, like, professional.”

“Yeah,” agrees Louis. “I’m still thinking it over. I sort of like us unprofessional. Unpolished.”

“Yeah, but it’s the BBC. They have to have, like, standards.” He starts to say something else, then stops himself and takes a breath. “Lou, I need to tell you something.”

Louis tenses, sitting up straighter against Harry’s pillows. “May I just say, I fucking knew it.”

Harry blinks. “You knew what?”

“There’s been something going on with you for weeks. Ever since you got back from that yoga thing. All that… whatever that was with you and Niall last weekend. What is going on?”

“I’ve been seeing someone,” Harry says. “Like, a boyfriend. Not Niall. Not anyone you know.”

“Someone from the yoga thing?”

“Yeah. His name’s Nick. He lives in London.”

“And you thought you couldn’t tell me?”

“It’s complicated. I told Niall, but I didn’t tell him everything.”

Louis feels ill. “You told Niall and not me about your boyfriend who lives in London? I’m your best mate.”

“He happened to be at the train station when I got home the other week. I went down to see him, and I came back, and Niall was just there. Doing something else. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you.”

“So what didn’t you tell Niall? Is he married or something?”

Harry looks genuinely hurt by that. “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t get in the way of someone’s marriage. What do you think of me?”

“I think we’ve been friends our whole lives, and we’re starting this huge bloody project together, and you didn’t think you could tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“It’s Nick Grimshaw. From Radio 1. I didn’t tell you because it didn’t even seem real at first. I thought it would be, like, we hooked up at the yoga thing and it’d be a funny story to tell when I got home. But then I liked him. I liked him so much. And I wasn’t ready for it, for feeling like that about someone I just met, and him being someone sort of famous.”

Louis is struck speechless. He hears Nick Grimshaw on the radio sometimes when he’s up early enough, but that’s different from thinking of him as someone Harry’s dating. He stares at the upturned page of Harry’s notebook. “So Nick Grimshaw is your boyfriend.”

“Yeah.”

“And you went down to London to see him.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re going to keep seeing him?”

“I hope so.”

“I still don’t know why you couldn’t tell me.” He needs Harry to be normal right now, more than he even realised, with everything else so strange all around them, everything changing so quickly.

“I don’t know either. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Good. I’m. I’m glad you’re happy. I hope we can all meet him sometime.” He says it, but he only means it about halfway. He’s annoyed, in a quiet, simmering way that he shoves down to deal with later (or preferably not at all).

“I’d like that. He’s great, Lou. He really is.”

“I guess I’ll have to forgive him ruining X Factor then.”

“It really wasn’t his fault the last series was rubbish.” Harry smiles though. “I haven’t spoken to him about it in case he’s sensitive.”

“I’m sure he knows it was rubbish, Haz.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to rub it in, do I?”

“Dunno. He’s your boyfriend, I’d think rubbing it in was a pretty basic part of the job description.”

Harry rolls his eyes.

*

Harry nearly wears a suit to go down to record their first promo spot and has to be bargained down to a jumper and nice trousers. They’re going to be meeting some Youth Programming execs from the BBC, and they’ve got to look at least a little bit respectable, Harry’s pretty sure.

“It’s youth programming though,” Louis insists, after Harry’s made him change out of his jeans and into real trousers. “We’re supposed to look like grubby teenagers, aren’t we?”

“No, we’re supposed to look like something grubby teenagers aspire to be.”

“I’m not finding your middle class dad look there very aspirational, I must say.”

Harry rolls his eyes. He showed Nick his outfit on FaceTime last night, and Nick said he looked nice, and Nick’s the most fashionable person he knows, so he must be all right. He keeps fidgeting with his hair anyway in the car on the way to the studio until Louis literally smacks his hand down. “If you fuss with it anymore, it’ll be sticking straight up. Just leave it.”

He’s getting through things well, but his hands keep clenching on the steering wheel and Harry hopes they’ll make it to the studio in one piece. All they need is a car accident to start their BBC careers off right.

But they pull up to the gate of the car park in one piece, and Louis shows the man the letter that’s supposed to get them in. Harry holds his breath while the guard looks it over, lets it out as they’re allowed through.

The studio is old and done up in browns and oranges that say it hasn’t been updated in at least thirty years. They meet men in suits, and Louis is polite and charming in the way Harry forgets he knows how to be. They talk about their process, such as it is, and then they film a fifteen second advert under hot lights that leave blinding impressions behind Harry’s eyelids when he closes them. They have to wear TV makeup that covers their spots, and there’s a woman whose job involves literally combing Harry’s eyebrows. Harry’s desire to scratch his nose is almost overwhelming.

It takes two hours and then they’re back in the car headed for home. Louis turns on the radio, and his mouth twitches into a frown at a promo for Nick’s show. Harry knows he’s not happy, and equally he knows that talking about it won’t help, that Louis will snap and twist things around and deny every feeling he has until he’s ready to do something else. Harry’s thought about inviting Nick up for a weekend, but in the interest of peace, he hasn’t made a move to do it. Louis will come around eventually. He always does.

*

Niall flops down into the chair across from Louis’s, setting a heavy bag more carefully on the floor beside him. Louis’s so glad to see him it’s almost a physical sensation, and he’s not sure when it got like that, when he got so attached to someone he’s only known for a couple of months.

“Y’alright?” says Louis.

“Hey,” replies Niall. “Long fucking day. I’m starving.”

“I’ve got pizza coming. You can have half if you like.”

“That’d be amazing. At least to start. I’m gonna need three or four more after that. And some chips. What are you drinking?”

Louis looks at the dregs of his pint. “Stella. But I’ll have whatever you’re having next round. Guinness or whatever.”

Niall grins. “You’ve got your Irish stereotypes turned up too high there, mate.”

He makes his way to the bar, slowly, like it hurts him to move, and Louis thinks he’ll need to remember to get the next round himself. Niall returns with two pints of Stella.

“Did the kids beat you up?” Louis asks.

“It was pensioners this time. A jazz ensemble. Not bad, to be honest. But I forgot my knee brace at home, and it was a lot of walking.”

“I didn’t know you wore a knee brace.”

“Yeah. I wear it on the hunts too. My knee’s always been kind of fucked, but it’s manageable. I had surgery a couple of years ago, but it’s still weaker than a normal knee would be. I don’t like to take any chances.”

“I’m glad you’re not the one who fell down an entire flight of stairs then.”

“Yeah, that would have put an end to the night for me, I’m afraid.”

“We’ll be careful with you in the future,” Louis promises.

Niall shrugs. “Needn’t be too careful. I can handle a lot, just not in the knee area.”

Louis sips his beer. “So you knew about Harry’s boyfriend?” he says, because he can’t think of anything else. The thought’s been circling around in his head for over a week.

“Yeah. I knew. And he asked me not to say anything. So I didn’t.”

“It’s Nick Grimshaw. Harry’s boyfriend.”

Niall’s surprise is gratifying. “He didn’t mention that part. Shit.”

“If there’s a BBC Christmas party, we’ll probably have to see him there.”

“The whole BBC can’t have a Christmas party all together, can they? What about all that regional radio and whatever else they’ve got?”

“Yeah, they’ll probably send us over to BBC Radio Merseyside for Christmas or something.”

“It’s fucking weird that Harry’s dating Nick Grimshaw, isn’t it? That isn’t just me thinking it, right?”

“It’s very fucking weird.”

“Brilliant though. Lucky him.”

“Which of them?”

Niall gives him a careful look. “Both, I suppose.”

A waitress slides a pizza onto the table, and Niall takes a slice immediately, looking like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. They’re silent for a while, eating.

“Should we talk about the next hunt?” Louis asks. 

“Yeah. Sure. What’ve you got so far?”

“It’s pretty nice, this place. A proper fucking country home. But it’s enormous. We’re going to have to pick and choose where we go. There’s no way we can cover all of it.”

“They given us hot spots and all?”

Maybe the biggest advantage to their BBC contract is someone else to do the scouting and find them places that will make for good telly without anyone tripping over each other. “There are a few. No one lives in it now, but they rent it out for parties and things. It’s the usual. Shadow figures on the stairs, noises at night. Someone got scratched up in the wine cellar, which sounds promising, but they may just have gotten pissed and started a fistfight with the cask of Amontillado.”

“Who hasn’t at some point, right? You ever thought about doing a hunt drunk?”

Louis grins. “I told Harry we should about a million times, but he never went for it, said the footage wouldn’t be usable if we couldn’t hold the camera steady, but that’s the point, isn’t it? Take some blurry film for the sake of authenticity, mate. I reckon BBC health and safety wouldn’t go for it though.”

“That’s a shame, since you’ve finally got the budget to have someone else film it.”

“I don’t know. ITV manages to get The Jump on the air for multiple series. Maybe the BBC would go for some drunken chaos to keep up. And we might not even break anything.”

“Drunk investigation with kneepads and helmets then. Keep the danger contained.”

“You should pitch that if they’re crazy enough to give us a second series.”

“That doesn’t sound crazy at all, mate. We’re doing a bang-up job.”

Louis raises his glass. “To doing a bang-up job.”

Niall toasts him, and Louis thinks that getting to know Niall may actually be the best thing about this whole project.

*

Harry feels a little ridiculous having a viewing party for their own show, and more so after his mum insists on inviting half his relatives and hosting it at her house, but it’s nice. Louis brings over five bottles of wine that’s not quite the cheapest he can get, so he may even think it’s nice. Niall brings cheese and crackers, Jade brings homemade chocolate chip cookies and her flatmate who apparently baked them, and Liam brings beer. The five of them take the best spots in the lounge as Harry’s mum presses play on the episode, and Harry supposes the advantage of an iPlayer-only show is they can restart it when everyone cheers over the opening.

It’s nerve-wracking, even though none of it’s a surprise. He and Louis saw the final cut a week ago, but the others haven’t seen anything since they reviewed the raw footage right after the hunt. Harry watches their faces as much as anything, listens to his family’s oohs and ahhs in the background. He thinks it’s a good show. He thinks he and Louis have done a good job, setting all this up. As the end credits roll, Louis catches his eye and smiles. It’s all the affirmation Harry needs. Although it’s nice an hour later when Nick sends him a whole line of ghost emojis and a message that says, “Your show is well spooky! Good job H xxxx”. He steps out into the back garden to phone him back, even though it’s getting late for a weeknight.

“Hey love,” says Nick, his voice like a warm hug. “How’s the premiere night party?”

“Good. I’m sorry you couldn’t come. But you liked it okay?”

“It was good. Not the best decision right at bedtime, but me and the dogs were well into it.”

“Do you need me to come down and check your house for ghosts?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Stinky barked at a blank wall in the kitchen the other day. If that’s not a haunting, I don’t know what is.”

“Sounds scary,” Harry agrees. He’s smiling around the words, just from having Nick on the line.

“Terrifying,” Nick tells him. “If you’re free, you should come down soon.”

“They’ve, uh, invited us to the NTAs. I don’t actually understand why, but I was gonna talk to you about it.”

“You’re a big TV star now, they’ll probably shove all the awards at you.”

“Stop,” says Harry, grinning.

“Shan’t,” replies Nick.

“I could come down for Saturday, if you want. Since the NTAs aren’t for a bit.”

“This Saturday?”

“Yeah. Just for one night. And I’d have to leave early on Sunday.”

Nick makes a little considering noise. “I could come to you instead for once. I’m free from Friday night. I could drive up. The dogs can stay with Emily.”

Harry’s so surprised that he doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Yeah. That would be great. My flat’s pretty small, but you’d be welcome. And maybe you could meet… someone.” Louis still isn’t a good bet, but Niall would certainly be up for it.

“All your ghost hunting pals? I might get star struck.”

“I’ll cover for you.”

*

Louis thinks about phoning Harry when he finds himself with a Friday afternoon free. Nick’s coming down later, and Louis’s managed to nod and look interested while Harry shows him recipes he plans to make and debates the best places to take him in town, and what’ll they do with Harry’s carefully plotted picnic lunch if it rains.

“Can’t you just snog him in the back of the cinema like a normal person?” he asked, and Harry scowled.

“We’re not in sixth form. He’s like, a proper adult.”

“Is he though? I’ve heard him on the radio. Doesn’t sound very adult to me.”

“Lou.”

Louis was taken aback by the hurt on Harry’s face. “You really like him, don’t you? You don’t just fancy him, you’re like…” He didn’t want to say “in love”, but in Harry’s long history of being flighty and weird about anything longer than a weekend fling, Nick is a clear outlier.

“I like him a lot. I’m, like, in it now. Really. You’ll come round when he’s here, right?”

And Louis said he would, but he can’t make himself call now. What’s he got to say to Nick Grimshaw anyway? He takes Niall to a pub Harry doesn’t like and they talk about football over flat beers until Louis’s sure it’s too late for Harry to call.

*

It’s weird when Nick actually arrives, in his fancy car with his leather shoulder bag, he seems more out of place than Harry would have expected. He looks like someone with his life together, and Harry’s very aware of how much of his stuff is currently shoved in a cupboard just to get it out of sight.

But then he smiles, and Harry smiles back, coming out to meet him on the pavement outside the pub door. And that feels exactly right. Harry hugs him, tucking his face into the side of Nick’s neck before he even says hello.

“How’s it going, love?” Nick says, pulling back and kissing him on the cheek.

“Good,” Harry replies. “I’m glad you could come.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s going to be boring though. There’s not a lot to do.”

“There’s a pub, obviously. That’s usually as far as I make it from my house of a weekend.”

“We do good Sunday roasts,” Harry tells him, turning towards the side door that leads up to his flat. “Mum makes the Yorkshires herself.”

“She’s a woman of many talents, your mum.”

“She’d like to see you too. I told her you were coming and she practically had hearts in her eyes.” Nick follows him up the narrow staircase and into the little flat. The narrow hallway lets onto a lounge, then a kitchen, then a bathroom, and at the back Harry’s bedroom with a window onto the patio behind the pub.

“So this is sort of it,” Harry says, waving at the hallway. “This is where I live. Such as it is.”

Nick’s examining a photo of him and Gemma sharing an ice cream at the seaside when they were kids. At least he’s got stuff up on the walls now; he hadn’t until a month ago. “How old are you here?”

“Seven, maybe.”

“You must have been the most charming kid.”

Harry doesn’t disagree. He mastered charm at a young age, and it’s been one of his main survival skills ever since. “I mean, I did get my sister to give me a lick of her ice cream here. So I see where you get that impression.”

“Have you got a bedroom?”

“Most of one,” says Harry. “The bed’s a double, but it’s still kind of small, compared to yours.”

“Why would you compare it to mine?”

Harry shrugs. “I’ve been in yours.” He opens the bedroom door and lets Nick in first. The bed is pushed into the corner under the window, which gives Harry a view of rooftops and the tree at the edge of the patio. He’s got a little desk from his childhood bedroom, and a bookcase, and the wardrobe pushed awkwardly against the wall at the foot of the bed. There’s no particular art to it.

Nick puts a hand at the small of his back, fingers dipping underneath his shirt to stroke his bare skin. Harry relaxes into his side. “If you don’t want me to stay here, that’s all right,” Nick tells him. “But I’ve lived in grotty, awful flats sometimes, and this isn’t one. This is dead nice.”

“It’s fine,” says Harry. “It’s just not on your level.”

“I’m over thirty. There’s no reason at all that should worry you. There’s all the time, love, and you’re doing brilliant things.”

“Thanks.”

Nick stifles a yawn behind his wrist. “I’m knackered. 6:30 start and then the drive. How does a nap and a cuddle strike you?”

“Brilliant. Do you, like, want anything first? Cup of tea? Glass of water?”

“Water, please.”

“Still or sparkling?” Nick looks at him for a long moment like he can’t tell if Harry’s serious. “It just comes from the tap, but I can shake it around a bit if you fancy.”

“You live over a pub, I don’t know what sort of stuff you might dip into from down there.”

“If what you really want is gin, all you had to do was ask.” Harry goes to the kitchen to get Nick’s water, and when he comes back through, Nick’s taken off his shoes and his jumper and laid down on Harry’s bed. 

He looks like he might really fall asleep any moment, but he sits up to take the glass. “This isn’t gin, is it?”

“Be a bloody lot of gin, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know how you like to start the weekend, Harold. Now come here.”

Cuddling is in fact exactly how Harry likes to start the weekend, and he tucks himself into Nick’s side immediately, Nick’s arm coming around his shoulders to keep him there.

“I thought I could cook tonight,” he says into Nick’s neck.

“Did you have a dish in mind?” Nick asks, fingers smoothing back and forth across the collar of Harry’s jumper.

“I bought stuff for lasagne, if that’s something you like.”

“I like all forms of pasta. All forms of carbs, honestly.”

Harry smiles. “Good. Then once you fall asleep, I can get started.”

Nick makes a low, concerned noise. “Don’t fancy waking up alone in your bed.”

“The lasagne will take a while. I can come back once it’s in.”

Nick kisses him very gently on the mouth and then flops back onto the bed. Harry puts on Radio 1 in the background while he puts together the lasagne, startling at an ad for Nick’s show and nearly losing a fingertip in a bunch of fresh basil. Nick was talking on the radio in London this morning and now he’s asleep in Harry’s bed. It’s as nice as it is unbelievable.

*

The red carpet is surreal. The lights and cameras and fans aren’t there for them, but they’re right in the midst of it, surrounded by people more famous than they are and those people’s managers and PAs.

“That’s actual Mary Berry,” Jade hisses in Harry’s ear, and he probably could be subtler as he spins to where she’s looking. But it is. It really is.

No one talks to them except a polite BBC Newsbeat reporter whose voice Harry recognises from Nick’s show. She’s obviously got no idea who they are when she waves them over, and she’s holding a scrap of paper that she shoves into her pocket, but not before he can see it says “High Spirits BBC3”. 

“Hi there,” she says. “How are you all? Is this your first NTAs?”

They all nod, and Jade talks about being a bit star struck. Harry keeps an eye out for Nick, but he must still be stuck in traffic. Nick could introduce them properly, make sure Newsbeat understands who they are and why they’re here, even though Harry isn’t totally sure himself. But he hasn’t asked Nick for anything like that before, and maybe it wouldn’t be right to do it now. Nick hasn’t been ready to tell the public about their relationship, although it’s not a secret in any real way.

“Since you’re on a new show, do you want to say just a bit about what that’s like? Has it been a big change?”

Louis jumps right on that one. “Well, it’s a variation on something me and Haz were doing already online, but we do have to be a lot more careful of swearing now.”

“Yeah, the BBC is quite particular about that,” she says, looking over Louis’s shoulder. “Thanks very much for stopping.” She smiles at all of them, and they move along. Harry tries to look back to see who’s replaced them, but the crowd is too thick.

Inside the O2, they’re seated at a table far from the stage, sharing with a couple of people from Strictly. Harry feels very much like a kid dropped at the adults’ table, out of place and unsure which fork to use, and although he can make small talk with the best of them, he’s sort of ready to go home by the time the champagne starts circulating. Niall and Louis have their heads together over Louis’s phone, and Liam and Jade are talking to one of the Strictly people about choreography.

“There you are!” Nick exclaims, appearing at his elbow, and Harry’s so glad to see him he nearly overturns his chair.

Nick hugs him and presses a kiss to his cheek, then pulls away before Harry really wants, although he leaves one hand at the small of Harry’s back.

“Hello, ghost hunters,” Nick says, and even Louis waves. “Do you all know my date, Cheryl?”

And behind him out of Harry’s line of sight is actual Cheryl Cole. She’s short and slim and wearing a tight black lace dress, her silky hair piled on top of her head. Liam and Louis stare unabashedly, and even Jade is giving her a bit of a onceover.

“Hello,” she says. “Grimmy says you chase ghosts.”

“Chase is a bit strong,” Liam replies, then looks shocked that he’s even managed to form words. “We just, more like look for them. It’s all to help people, really.”

“I went with Yvette Fielding once, on a ghost hunt.” She lays a hand on the back of Liam’s chair, and he tilts his head to keep looking at her. “It was terrifying.”

“I saw that,” says Jade excitedly. “I’m such a big fan of Girls Aloud. But I couldn’t even sleep after watching that.”

“And yet here you are, doing it professionally.”

“I mostly do the historical research and things. That’s the part I like.”

“Where are you from? I hear a bit of the Northeast on you.”

They start talking about South Shields and Newcastle, and Harry notices that although Cheryl’s eyes are on Jade, her hand is still on the back of Liam’s chair, and he’s looking helplessly up at her.

Nick’s fingers make little circles against Harry’s spine. “You look good,” he says quietly.

Harry takes a proper look at him. He’s wearing a blue suit, and his shirt is open at the collar, revealing a stretch of skin Harry wants to set his mouth to. “You too.”

Nick holds his gaze for a long moment. “Do you know where the toilets are?” Nick asks. And obviously Harry doesn’t, which he’s about to say, but Nick continues. “I could show you, if you like.”

There are so many people here, almost all of them more famous than he is, but few of them more recognizable at a distance than Nick. He hesitates just long enough that there’s a chime and a voice overhead says, “Five minutes to recording. Please take your seats.”

“Ooh, too late,” says Nick. He presses a kiss to Harry’s lips that Harry is too startled to return, and then he and Cheryl are off towards the front of the room.

“This is all fucking weird,” Louis says.

No one disagrees.

*

Louis is just staring at them, the way Liam leans in to hear what she's saying, Cheryl's small, perfectly manicured hand on his arm. It's possibly actually weirder than the fact that their dumb little ghost hunting show is on the BBC.

Niall pokes him in the side. "Don't stare, mate."

Louis looks at him. Their table's in the corner, and it's not as though anyone's going to see him staring. "How does a thing like that happen?" Louis says. "He's a plumber. And paranormal investigator, I guess. But she's a popstar."

"Jealous?" Niall asks.

Louis scoffs. "I just don't understand this whole thing. You haven't got a girlfriend, have you?"

Niall hesitates. He's looking at Jade, who's at the bar chatting to the bartender. Louis doesn't expect what he says next. "I'm gay, mate. I thought you knew that."

Louis's understanding of him shifts and resettles. Niall goes to drag nights with Jade. Louis is an idiot. He tries not to let it show on his face. "You never said. Have you got a boyfriend?"

"Nah. I don't understand the whole dating thing any better than you do."

Louis clinks his mostly empty glass against Niall's mostly full one. "Cheers." He downs the last of his beer. He's got this image in his head now of Niall kissing faceless men, and he can't shake it. "Does everyone else know?"

"About me being gay? I thought so. Jade and I go out to gay bars and stuff. And Harry seemed to figure it out Day 1. I just assumed you and Liam knew. But maybe not. I don't like big announcements. It feels a bit, 'Ooh, look at me.' And there's no reason for anyone to care really, unless they're planning to date me. Which no one is at the minute."

"The single life isn't all bad," Louis says. "We could go out more."

"Don't know how you'd feel in the sort of places I go to.” He gives Louis an overstated up and down look that makes Louis’s toes tingle. “You'd have to turn down a lot of invitations."

"I don’t mind. And I make a brilliant wingman. Not that Harry needs it. He's always sort of tripped and fallen into stuff, romantically."

"I like Nick."

"He's a laugh," Louis agrees. “And a fine example of Harry falling into stuff.”

“Yoga’s dangerous,” Niall agrees solemnly, and Louis cracks a smile.

*

To this point, all their hunts have been within an hour or two’s drive, easy to take on with the van’s radio, a packet of Haribo, and several thermoses of tea. But with the BBC’s backing, they’re now meant to take on cases across the whole country, and this weekend they’re being shipped off to the Cotswolds by train. Harry’s a little bit excited because it all seems very professional and someone else will be paying for dinner and hotel rooms for the lot of them the night before the hunt. But Louis is a wreck, checking and double-checking the equipment list, snapping at anyone who comes near his cases on the platform. Jade’s talking him through it with the sort of patience and good humour Harry has never had for Louis’s moods. So he steers well clear and peeks over Liam’s shoulder while he sends soppy texts to Cheryl. Harry has to bite his tongue to keep from correcting Liam’s punctuation, but it’s better than getting punched on a train platform by his best friend.

“I’ve not seen him like this,” Niall says, handing Harry a coffee and peering at Louis like he’s something in a nature exhibit.

“He’s not likely to actually explode,” Harry replies quietly. “With any luck, he’ll tire himself out and sleep the rest of the way to Gloucester.”

“That’s the sort of strategy you’re supposed to use on toddlers, isn’t it?”

“Probably. But if it works on adults, don’t question it.”

He and Niall take seats next to each other on the train, with Liam and Louis across the way and Jade one row ahead. Liam’s apparently taking dating advice from Louis, or at least looking at him with rapt concentration as he describes his most romantic dates. It’s not a course of action Harry would recommend, but then Liam’s already a bit outside the norm exchanging flirty texts with someone Harry’s sister had a poster of on her bedroom door as a teenager. If Liam wants to hear how Louis cooked one successful dinner once and won’t ever bloody shut up about it, that’s up to him.

*

Niall’s stretched out at the end of the couch opposite Louis’s, feet on the coffee table, and Louis keeps looking at him instead of the match on the telly, distracted by the concentration on Niall’s face. “Are these guys your type?” Louis asks during an advert break. “Big sporty lads?”

Niall sighs. “I’m not your first gay friend, Lou. There’s no need to treat me like an alien species.”

“I’m not. I’m just wondering what you’re looking for in a man, as a friend concerned with your happiness.” He shouldn’t have to justify himself. He shouldn’t feel anxious about doing it.

“I watch football because I like football, not because the guys are fit. Although plenty of them are. There’s lots of fit guys out there.”

“So you’re saying you haven’t got a type?”

“I haven’t noticed a pattern. Maybe I haven’t been with enough of them for a pattern.” He glances over at Louis, and Louis drops his eyes, guilty for asking but also aching to ask more.

The second half of the match starts up on the telly, and they go back to talking about easier and more obvious subjects. But Louis can’t stop thinking about Niall and footballers.

“When was the last time you dated someone?” Louis says. They’re on opposite sides of Niall’s kitchen table, working their way through a post-match pizza.

“I went on a date with a friend of a friend about a month ago, but it wasn’t any good.”

That shouldn’t be shocking, but it is. Louis leans in a bit, whirling through all the times he’s seen Niall lately, never looking upset or disappointed or anything. “You didn’t tell us.”

“I told Harry.”

And that’s worse. “You didn’t tell me.”

Niall frowns, drops a stray bit of sausage from the pizza box onto his slice. “Do you tell me every time you go out with someone?”

“I would if I ever did. It’s been a long dry period.” Louis stares at the piece of pizza on his plate, doesn’t pick it up. He wants to know everything about Niall’s date. “Where’d he take you?”

“Dinner. But he couldn’t keep up a conversation. He just sat there like he was waiting for me to say something else the whole time.” Niall shoves a bit of crust in his mouth and Louis waits patiently while he chews. “And then at the end he tells me he doesn’t believe in ghosts and he thinks I’m a con artist preying on people’s fears.”

Louis’s next question dies in his mouth. “Jesus. But at least he bought you dinner first?”

“I bought myself dinner. We split the bill.”

“You can do better.” Louis wants to reach out and touch him, a friendly pat on the arm, maybe; he finishes off his slice of pizza in two bites instead.

Niall laughs. “I should fucking hope so.”

“Was he fit?”

“Yeah. But that doesn’t do much in the end.” He shrugs. “That’s how it goes sometimes. How long’s it been since you went on a date?”

“I had a long-time girlfriend, and when we ended things about a year ago, I just didn’t want to start anything again. You never know what you’re going to get into.”

“Don’t I know it, mate.”

They eat in silence for a while. Louis feels like he’s missing something, like there’s something here he can’t quite look at. He likes Niall, guards Niall’s attention jealously, but there’s a part of him that wants even more than that. More of Niall, all the time.

“You ever tried dating someone you were friends with first?” Louis asks, as something clicks into place in his chest, kicking his heartbeat into double time. He’s spent months laughing with Niall over floor plans, and sitting in Niall’s kitchen eating pizza, and phoning Niall up when he needs to talk or needs a place to go and not talk. He’s spent all this time catching Niall’s attention and working to keep it, and couldn’t he want this extra thing too?

“Not often. It’s riskier. If there are places you can’t go afterwards, if it doesn’t work out. I never want to ask anyone to choose a side.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Louis says.

“Depends what your friends are like, doesn’t it?”

“What about co-workers?”

“Mate, my co-workers are either children’s choirs or you lot, and none of you are exactly available.”

Louis sets down his pizza. “I just got done telling you how available I am.”

Niall is quiet for a long moment. “Lou, I don’t know what you’re getting at. You’re straight. And I’m still a guy. That’s a pretty big deal breaker.”

“What if it weren’t?”

“Then I guess we’d have something to talk about.” Niall’s eyes are on his empty plate, but Louis’s understanding is growing every moment, fear and excitement caroming around inside him, colliding and intertwining. 

“I like you. A lot,” he tells Niall. “If it’s too risky though, I understand.” If Niall turns him down cold, they’ve still got to work together tomorrow, and Louis wonders just how monumentally stupid this was.

Niall stands up, and Louis thinks he’s about to be kicked out of Niall’s house for wild lack of professionalism. So he stands up, too, and then they’re face to face, very close to each other. And instead of throwing him out, Niall puts a hand on his cheek and kisses him full on the mouth. Louis feels a jolt of uncertainty, but then Niall’s hand slides into his hair, and Louis lets himself relax into it. He opens his mouth, and Niall’s tongue slides across his lower lip. It’s nice, gentle, and Louis leans into him, letting the kiss deepen. He curls a hand into Niall’s shirt, gripping at his waist, pulling him in even closer. He hasn’t kissed anyone in a long time.

“Have you ever been with a guy before?” Niall asks, nuzzling at the corner of his mouth.

“Not at all,” Louis replies. It’s different already, the shape of Niall’s body against his, but it’s not bad. He wants more, and he takes a deep breath, trying to imagine what more even looks like.

“Let me just put the rest of the pizza away,” Niall says, taking a step back. He puts their plates in the sink and the remains of the pizza in the fridge, and Louis wanders back into the lounge, wishing he had a mint.

“You look a little freaked out,” Niall says, standing in the doorway. “We can just call it a night if you like.”

“I don’t want to call it a night.” He holds out a hand, and Niall moves towards him. “I want to kiss you.”

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

They end up on the sofa, their legs overlapping, Niall holding him close with a hand at the small of his back, hot on his skin. Louis didn’t expect to be so turned on, just from kissing, from kissing a man, but when Niall nuzzles at his throat, Louis moans and his hips hitch forward. Niall squeezes at his waist.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Niall asks.

Louis hesitates, staring at his mouth. He wants Niall to touch him, wants to come apart in his hands. But it’s so new. “Later,” he says. “I do, but later.”

*

Harry doesn’t consider himself a suspicious person, but he knows something’s different the moment Louis and Niall show up to a team meeting together, Louis looking flustered and pleased and Niall smiling like he’s got a brilliant secret. Harry wonders if it’s something with their contracts, something about the renewal, but surely Harry would have heard as well. Niall wasn’t even part of their original crew. Harry looks round at Liam to see if he’s noticed anything off, but he’s buried in his phone as usual. And Jade’s already texted to say she’s running late and to start without her.

“Right,” says Louis, as though he’s got an announcement to make, but then he falters. “So this is a meeting. Of our team. To talk about things we’re going to do.”

“Our next hunt,” says Harry helpfully. “In Scotland.”

“Yes. That. So there’s this bloody great castle up in Scotland, and we’re going to go there, and there may be ghosts there, and hopefully it will be brilliant.”

“Also cold,” says Niall. “I checked the forecast. It’s going to be minus-two the night we’re there.”

“Niall is an overachiever,” says Louis, eyes lingering fondly on Niall’s face. Niall grins. If it were anyone but Louis, Harry would swear that was flirting.

“All I’m saying is bundle up warm, or find someone to share body heat with.” Louis’s look is harder this time, but Niall just keeps grinning. If this isn’t flirting, Harry genuinely doesn’t know what it is, and he knows he’s missed a lot wrapped up in his own personal life, but this is beyond what he thinks he could have missed.

“So Niall really thinks we should all pair off in case of a blizzard, but as there are five of us, someone’s going to die of exposure. What else can we do to prepare for this hunt?”

“We need Jade,” says Liam. “She’s got all the research stuff.”

“She should be here soon,” says Harry. “She’s just texted from the bus and she’s not far.”

“Besides the research,” says Louis, “there are train tickets for the lot of us, which I would hand round, but I think I left them… somewhere. Anyway, I’ll make sure we’ve got them before we go. And they’ve got us a reservation at a hotel for the night after, so we won’t have to get the train back on no sleep. But we’ll need to do review in the hotel before we leave, so no dawdling around all afternoon without looking at the footage.”

“And bring clean socks and pants,” adds Niall.

“It’s just one night,” says Louis, and Niall looks aghast. “Well, two, but that’s not bad, is it?”

Jade runs in just as Niall says, “You should change your pants every day. That’s not just a suggestion.”

“This is not what I thought the meeting was for,” she says, sitting down next to Liam.

*

By the end of the night, Louis is cold and tired, and he’s starting to convince himself he’s hearing things, which is the worst point for someone in their line of work to get to. He and Liam have been asking questions beside a recorder on the battlements for half an hour, and with the wind picking up, it’s seeming more and more useless.

“Aren’t you bloody freezing out here?” Louis asks, and the wind whistles at them. Maybe there’ll be a voice behind it when he listens back, but for now there’s nothing they can do except try to keep up their end of the conversation.

“What did you do when it got cold out here?” Liam asks.

“Scotch, I assume,” says Louis, folding his knees up to his chest and wishing he’d brought some proper wool socks. He can’t even ask Jill the camera operator for the time to see how soon they can move to someplace warmer. “I don’t suppose you’ve got anything out here you’d offer to some weary travelers on a cold night.” Louis could swear he hears laughter on the wind, and he sits still for a moment. “Did you hear that?” he asks Liam.

Liam shakes his head. “Just the wind.”

“Ugh.” He kicks at a pebble, which goes clattering into the wall.

It’s nearly dawn when they get back to the hotel, and Harry gives him an appraising look when he follows Niall into their room. He’d tried to ask a pointed question about the shared sleeping arrangements earlier too, but Louis isn’t ready to confirm anything.

Niall strips out of his hat, coat, boots, socks, and two jumpers before even looking at Louis. “Big bathtub in there I noticed. Seems like a good way to get warm. If you’re interested in sharing.” He starts on his fly and Louis flings his hoodie and t-shirt off in one go. He’s colder then, cold enough that his arms and chest prickle with gooseflesh.

“I’ll turn on the water.” Louis goes into the bathroom and turns on the hot water. It heats so much faster than in his flat at home, and he breathes in the rising steam. He’s keyed up, the way he always is after a hunt, but he’s nervous too. They’ve never spent a night together, or this weird dawn equivalent. Louis keeps making excuses and heading home before things go farther than light frottage. It’s a very secondary school kind of situation, and he’s a little bit embarrassed by his own hesitancy.

The tub fills slowly, and Niall comes in behind him when it’s still only half full. He’s only in his pants, and Louis’s eyes catch on the ugly scar across his knee. Louis’s known about it, but he hasn’t seen it before, or Niall’s pale, skinny thighs, or so many parts of him that are on display now.

“We can just take a bath,” Niall says. “No pressure.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I’ve been freezing my arse off all night, so a bath would be grand and a bath with you in it is better, and I’d take some other stuff too if you like. But I know how to take care of myself if that’s not your speed.”

Louis turns to him and puts a hand on his hip, stepping in close. He needs to admit he’s nervous, but the only words in his head are “it’s not you it’s me” and that’s not what he means. He presses his lips to Niall’s, and Niall’s cold fingertips slide around the nape of his neck as Niall licks into his mouth. He wants Niall, wants to kiss him and touch him and come with him, but the steps are unfamiliar. “Let’s see how we go,” he says softly into Niall’s mouth. “Okay?”

“Good,” says Niall. He pulls away, looking Louis up and down. “Don’t let the bath overflow. And maybe take off your trousers.”

Louis manages to do both. He even gets his pants off without thinking too much about it. He steps into the bath and settles at the end, sighing as the warm water laps up over his chest. It puts him right at eye level with Niall’s rising dick, and he tenses against a wave of desire. He could put his mouth on Niall’s cock right now, suck at the plump pink head and feel Niall harden in his mouth. And he wants that. But not yet.

Niall slips in in front of him, setting his back against Louis’s chest. Louis wraps an arm around him and presses his lips to the curve of Niall’s shoulder.

“It was fucking freezing in that castle,” Louis says. “Whose idea was this anyway, Scotland in bloody November?”

“Mmm,” says Niall, tilting his head to look at him. “Have you thought that maybe the BBC is trying to kill us?”

“Nah,” replies Louis. “Our families would sue. And the BBC hasn’t got any money any more. That’s why they’re giving work to us lot.”

“That’s because we’re brilliant,” Niall says. “They’re lucky to have us. I wouldn’t be surprised if we were making all their other programs look bad.”

“Ah, so that’s why they’ve sent us to Scotland to freeze our bits off, you reckon?”

Niall wriggles back against him and Louis’s breath stutters. “Your bits seem in good working order.”

“Yeah, I’m getting some feeling back now. Quite a bit of feeling.” His stiffening dick is tucked in tight at the base of Niall’s spine, and Niall seems happy to have it there.

Niall trails his fingers through the water, and everything is warm and silent for a moment before Niall stirs against him again, rolling his hips so Louis’s dick slides right up against one plump cheek of his arse. “Shall I tell you what I’m thinking about?” says Niall quietly. “It’s not very professional.”

“Go on then.”

“I’m thinking how much I’d like to sit on your dick right now, just like this.”

Louis gives a violent little shiver. “Jesus.”

“No need to get him involved.”

“No,” Louis agrees. He presses his lips to the side of Niall’s neck. It’s a potent image, something he’s barely thought to want in the last few weeks. “Is that something you like?”

“Your dick? I’m leaning yes. And I like being fucked. Never done it in a bath, but I’m up for it. If you are.”

“I don’t know,” says Louis. Feeling bold, he slides a hand over Niall’s hip to cup his dick. “Is thinking about that turning you on?”

“Everything about this is turning me on.” He arches into Louis’s hand, and Louis firms his grip, stroking him gently. The movement of his arm makes ripples across the surface of the bath, and Niall grinds back into him, his arse right up against Louis’s dick like he could take it inside himself right now. The slide of his soft skin against Louis’s and the drag of the water over his hardening dick edges him closer to orgasm. “It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Niall breathes out, arse cheeks flexing as he works himself in Louis’s hand. “But one day you’re gonna fuck me and it’s going to be absolutely fucking incredible.”

“Hope so,” says Louis, panting as he ruts into the swell of Niall’s arse.

“Wait,” Niall says, and Louis lets go of his dick as Niall reaches back to spread the cheeks of his arse around Louis’s cock. It gives Louis a tighter space to thrust into, and he gasps as Niall flexes around him. “Next best thing.”

It’s so good, the warm water and the feel of Niall’s body against his, and he moans into the soft hair at the nape of Niall’s neck. His hair still smells like cold and dust from the castle and he bends his head as Louis kisses his neck and slows his strokes.

It’s not long before it’s over, Niall lifting his hips and spurting into Louis’s hand, a little swirl of white in the water, which should be gross, but it just makes him feel proud. “Fuck,” Louis whispers, holding Niall against him, rocking into him, his dick held snug between Niall’s cheeks.

“Yeah,” Niall says. “Come on. Just like that.” He circles his hips against Louis’s dick, and Louis imagines fucking him, sinking into him and holding himself there inside. They’ve got all day. Surely there’ll be time if they like. When he comes, he drops his head on Niall’s shoulder, sucking a little bruise there. They wallow around in the bath for a bit more, but Niall’s head keeps drooping forward as the adrenaline wears off, and Louis has to drag him up to rinse off before they drown.

*

For the last episode of the series they go to North Wales, a manor house with a long and somewhat queer history. Harry’s excited for it, and he’s been reading up on the ladies of Llangollen for a week in preparation. He and Louis drive down together and Harry realises it’s the first time in weeks they’ve been alone together. Not that they’re really alone even then. There’s a camera on the dash recording as Harry describes the fabulous lives of Eleanor Butler and Sarah Ponsonby who turned Plas Newydd into a destination for a whole parade of 19th century literary figures.

“They were together for 60 years,” Harry says wonderingly. “Can you imagine being with someone for 60 years?”

“I can’t imagine doing anything for 60 years,” Louis replies, keeping his eyes on the road, “let alone keeping up a relationship. Although I guess if I liked someone enough…”

Harry looks across at him and then carefully turns off the camera. “Lou. Can I ask you something?”

“Is it about spending sixty years with you? Because that’s not the sort of commitment I’m ready to make yet.”

“It’s about you and Niall.” Louis’s face is blank. He doesn’t even flinch, like he knew it was coming eventually. “You’re having a… thing, right?”

“A relationship. I think a relationship is the thing we’re having.” His voice is calm and steady, but it just makes him sound like he’s angry, like Harry’s overstepping.

“I didn’t want to presume. I wouldn’t judge if it was just a sex thing. Or just a non-sex thing. Or if you were just mates who liked to cuddle. There’s nothing wrong with a cuddle.”

“It’s all of that, I think,” Louis replies, more shyly. “Mates and cuddling and sex. All of that.”

“For how long?”

“Six weeks, about.”

Harry counts back. It’s even longer than he thought. “You didn’t say.”

“Serves you right.”

“Yeah. Probably. Do you want to, like, talk about it? You’ve never been with a guy before, have you?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything to talk about. Aren’t you the one who’s like, ‘ooh, gender is a social construct, it doesn’t matter, blah blah blah’?”

“It _is_ a social construct,” Harry says, affronted. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter, not in this day and age. It’s well different being with a man in public than being with a woman. That’s not nothing.”

Louis’s quiet for a minute, staring at the traffic on the motorway. “We don’t do much different than before out in public. I don’t fancy snogging him in the pub or anything. But I reckon it is different. In some ways.” Harry thinks he’ll say more, but he just lets the silence stretch.

“I really thought you were straight.”

“Yeah. I did as well. But I’m not.” He frowns and Harry wonders if he’s ever said it before. “I’m not straight.”

“Have you told your parents?”

Louis shakes his head and shifts to a lower gear as the traffic thickens and slows around them. “I don’t think they’ll mind though. I could do worse than Niall.”

“Niall’s brilliant.”

“I know he is. But you can keep your hands off my man.” He smiles.

“No promises. We’re going to be alone in the dark together all night. And what’s more romantic than the glow of an infrared camera?”

“Surprised you haven’t brought Grimmy out on a hunt yet if it’s that much of an aphrodisiac for you.”

“Celebrity guests can go in the second series.” If they have one. Harry reaches to turn the dash camera back on, then hesitates. “Are you ever going to forgive me for waiting to tell you?”

Louis shrugs. “Eventually. We’re still mates after all this. It’ll just take time. You should have told me.”

“What if it was nothing? What if it was a fling?”

“Then we could have taken the piss out of him every time he was on telly for the rest of time. I’d still want to know. You told me about bloody crystal therapy but not that you spent half your yoga retreat shagging the bloke who ruined X Factor.”

“He _didn’t_ \--” Louis grins. “Anyway, I didn’t want to make too much of it. The crystal therapy could have been useful.”

“It wasn’t.”

“You don’t know. Maybe we would have gotten less than we did on all these hunts without that crystal for focus.”

Louis huffs. Harry smiles and turns the camera back on. He looks straight into it. “So Louis believes in ghosts but can’t handle the idea of crystals as spiritual foci. What’s that say about him?”

“And Harry uses words like ‘foci’ in normal conversation. So what’s that say about him?”

*

The house is absolutely bloody enormous, so big that the floor plan Louis’s been poring over can’t possibly do it justice and he feels a little bit overwhelmed trying to set zones and boundaries. They can’t possibly do all of this in one night, even without looking at any of the grounds.

“Haz, we’ve got to set some stuff out of bounds,” he says, his arms full with a packing crate destined for the command centre, a collection of batteries and cords and backup walkie-talkies. Louis recalls when he thought maybe being a BBC employee would mean less heavy lifting.

“Yeah,” says Harry, huffing up the stairs behind him. “How do you want to do it?”

“We should have asked for two nights. There are so many good spots.”

“We still could. We could, like, phone someone.” Louis has no idea if that’s something they even can do, actually, but Harry sounds hopeful. “If everyone could stay.”

“Niall and I could,” Louis says, going red at the sly look Harry gives him and nearly tripping over a runner in the hallway. “We booked a couple of days off up here, just to stay.”

“So what you’re saying is if we stay an extra night it’ll be cutting into your dirty weekend in north Wales?” Harry says.

Louis would flip him off if he could around the crate in his arms. He’s not wrong, which is the worst part. “It’s a good idea to do an extra night, if they’ll let us,” he insists.

“Jade and Liam and I could do it, if you need to go.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m being supportive. It’s nice to see you with someone again. You’re happier like this.”

Louis heaves the crate into place under the command centre table and shoves his hands in his pockets. He is happy, there’s no point in denying that. But he doesn’t need to go shouting it out from any rooftops; they’re just fine as they are, him and Niall. He still has moments of uncertainty when he looks at Niall sometimes, but it’s easy to let them pass. And now that Harry knows, it’s more real, not just a thing for the two of them. Louis dislikes the sort of insight it gives him as to why Harry didn’t say anything about Nick.

Before they split into first shift teams, Jade does her little overview of the house’s history and the paranormal experiences people have had here: disembodied voices, shadowy figures, nothing particularly disturbing. Louis’s about to grab a recorder and head off with Liam to explore one of the bedrooms when Harry clears his throat.

“I just wanted to say something, before we start. The two women who built this house ran away from their families to do it, and they lived together here for half a century. And it wouldn’t be quite fair to call them lesbians when that’s not a term that they had to use, but that’s probably what they’d call themselves if they were living now. And I think it’s good for us to remember that being queer isn’t a new thing, or, like, something that was just invented. There have always been people like us out there.” It’s a general “us”, and he’s not looking at any of them specifically, but Louis’s heartbeat picks up speed anyway. He’s part of that “us” now in a way he never realised before. Niall’s elbow nudges his, and he nudges back.

*

It’s strange to think they’ve filmed an entire series of a TV show, that their work is done while they wait to find out if they have a second series. They could go on more hunts, just like they used to, with just Louis’s cameras. But they couldn’t post the videos yet, and that makes it all feel a little pointless.

Harry has taken a sabbatical from the pub and is passing the time on holiday in London, meaning Nick’s house. He spends days on Nick’s sofa while Nick’s on the radio, afternoons in the park with the dogs, evenings watching the slow improvement of Nick’s cooking. He’s never got to the point in a relationship where he’s thought about living with someone, but when he’s been sleeping in Nick’s bed and walking Nick’s dogs for two weeks, he starts wondering if he could do it. If maybe Nick would want to.

“You’re not sick of me yet, are you?” Harry asks, stirring a second batch of rice to go with the chicken tikka, Nick having burned the first batch.

“I’d have no rice without you,” Nick replies, curling an arm around his waist. “I might keep you here forever.” He kisses Harry’s cheek.

Harry puts a lid on the rice and turns for a proper kiss. “You wouldn’t really.”

“Not forcibly, no.”

“But if it wasn’t forcible?” It’s only been eight months, and they’ve never even lived in the same city during that time.

“What exactly are you asking, love?”

“I don’t know. Just exploring possibilities. For the future. Not for right now.” He needs to leave the rice to cook for fifteen minutes, but he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“To be clear, it’s the possibility of moving in with me that you’re exploring for the future, yeah?”

“I just like being here. I like being around you all the time and doing normal stuff. It’s nicer than just seeing you on weekends.”

“It is. I like that too.” He steps away, and Harry turns to look at him. Nick fiddles with his necklace. “But the closest I’ve come to living with a partner is Gillian sleeping in my bed for a month. And that’s not really the same at all. I’ll think about it though. And you’re welcome for at least another month.”

“Thanks.”

“After that, I’ll start charging rent, and you’ve never dealt with London housing prices.”

“You wouldn’t just take it out in trade?”

Nick raps him lightly on the nose with the handle of a spoon. “In your dreams, love.”

*

Louis gets a call from a London number he doesn’t recognise, and he nearly doesn’t pick it up. It’s a Tuesday morning, early enough that he’s still in bed although Niall’s gone for the day. He doesn’t recognise the voice on the end of the line, but the words make his ears ring. They’ve been picked up for a second series. They need to be at the studio in Manchester on Thursday to sign new contracts.

“Thank you. I understand. Thank you.”

He stares at his phone for a minute once he ends the call. Another eight episodes of this glorious nonsense. Maybe by next year’s NTAs everyone will know who they are on the red carpet, although that’s a bit of a long shot still. He feels buoyantly happy.

The phone starts ringing again.

“Haz?”

“They phoned you too, right?” Harry asks, excitement ringing in his voice. “They’ve told you?”

“Yeah, they’ve told me. A second series. They must think we’re doing all right. Congratulations, mate!”

“Congratulations, too!” He can hear Nick in the background and he doesn’t even mind. “Nick says congratulations, too.”

“Thanks, Nick. We should phone the team. I’ve got Niall.”

“That’s only fair. I’ll get Jade and Liam. I reckon you’ll have more to say to Niall than this.”

“I usually do.”

“Lou, I don’t want to get soppy or anything, but I’m so glad you’re my best mate. I don’t know if I say it enough.”

“You could say it more. I wouldn’t mind. And I’m glad you’re my best mate too. None of this could have happened without you.”


End file.
